


Home Is Where The Heart Is

by thesilentzed



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M, OC - character - Freeform, Prank Wars, Step-Brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:30:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilentzed/pseuds/thesilentzed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to a series of less than ideal events, Louis moves in with Mark and his new wife Anne for his final year of school. His plan? Get through high school with his best friends Zayn and Niall and then he's home free. Unfortunately for him his new step-brother Harry Styles is putting a few kinks in that plan.</p><p>Or: The one where Harry and Louis are stepbrothers that wanna bone, the boys are in high school, and no one actually spends any time caring about school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

"Well, here it is. Home sweet home!" Mark's grin consumed his face as he toed off his shoes, glancing over his shoulder at Louis expectantly. Louis tried returning the sentiment but he knew his smile was strained. Though, in his defence, the only thing between the box in his hands and the floor was the absolute tips of his fingers, so his less than relaxed response wasn't entirely atmosphere related. Mark was entirely oblivious to the near catastrophe behind him as he took his sweet ass time balancing his box on one knee and shifting its weight around until he was able to toss his keys into a Moroccan themed decorative bowl off to the side. Louis much preferred the key holder at his mom's house that hung on the wall. Way more classy than a decorative bowl, he thought snidely.

Louis inhaled deeply through his nose. This is exactly what he needed to _not_ be doing - comparing Mark's new wife to his mother. And in more pressing news, Louis' box was on the brink of busting past the guard of his now tingling fingers. The end of his toes and this box's contents was near.

"Uh, Mark?" Louis intoned sarcastically, "Mind budging forward a bit? My fingers are about to be the newest incarnation of The Color Purple." Luckily, Mark had grown fairly accustomed to Louis' less than stellar manners and simply chuckled at the request.

“Right, sorry. Guess you're stuck behind me there, huh?” he commented as he got his shit together and moved further into what was Louis' new home for the next year. The moment the coast was clear Louis hustled past Mark, eyes darting about for the nearest solid surface – sofa, end table... you know what? The sofa would have to do – and dropped the box on it with a sigh of relief. Better the posh sofa with sequined throw pillows than his feet. Which still had shoes. Oops.

“All right there?” Mark laughed as he shrugged his shoulders, hitching his own box up higher on his hands – show off.

Louis raised an eyebrow, holding up splayed hands to display the whitened tips of his fingers. “Only if my hands don't have to be bloody chopped off,” he sneered a little dramatically, even by Louis standards. Mark's smile faltered and well, shit. This whole mess wasn't Mark's fault. “Sorry.” Louis averted his eyes, gaze falling onto a bloody Walmart portrait of Mark, his wife, and her two kids. He didn't look at the photo long, the feeling it gave him made his stomach knot up. This whole situation sucked and both Louis and Mark knew it wasn't ideal, but that didn't give Louis the right be a dick to Mark.

“It's a rough day,” Mark conceded, gaze soft and understanding, “Though you might want to watch the sarcasm with your new siblings. They're likely to give as good as they get,” he informed Louis.

“Ri-”

“What's that about sarcasm and siblings?” a low voice drawled, cutting Louis off. Irritated, Louis was absolutely prepared to sass whoever had just spoken as his head snapped to the staircase just behind Mark -- and holy mother of gay impulses and desires. Who had let sex on legs into the house? The boy smiled crookedly – a fucking _dimple_ piercing his cheek – and waved to Louis, and what were knees and how did they work? Louis wondered as his own began to wobble.

“Nothing, Harry,” Mark responded – thank God for him because Louis wasn't sure he could speak – before suggesting, “How about you help us get Louis' stuff moved in?”

Harry – what a simple but excellent name, Louis reflected – shrugged and galloped down the stairs as if he weighed a thousand pounds, which was enough to snap Louis from his stupor because wow. He had never heard someone make so much racket on a staircase. If this was a clue as to what Harry was like then Louis wasn't certain he'd be sleeping too well. Sure his sisters normally made noise, but only so much sound could be made by tiny humans.

Harry was very definitely _not_ a tiny human. Louis realized how much taller than him Harry was as the boy hit the bottom of the stairs, coming level with Louis. His gaze was expectant.

“You can start with this box right here,” Louis directed, pointing to the box he had dropped on the couch a moment ago. He applauded himself for the quick regaining of control of his body, words, and severely under appreciated sense of humour.

“Really?” Harry asked sceptically, his question directed at Mark.

How rude.

“Really,” Louis affirmed, eyes hardening. Sex on legs was losing his appeal rather quickly.

Mark promptly sensed the tension and intervened. He placed a placating hand on Harry's shoulder. “It would be appreciated, bud.”

Bud?

Louis rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling a little too cramped in this house that wasn't his home and had pictures of someone else's family on the walls, and sequined throw pillows, and decorative bowls.

“I'm going to get more of my shit from the car,” he said and bee lined for the door, not waiting for a reaction.

He hadn't wanted one anyway.

\- - -

“Hey mom.” Louis was careful to be quiet as he didn't want to be overheard. He was sat in the centre of his bed in a room with yellowed walls – like smoker's teeth, he decided bitterly – and surrounded by unpacked boxes and pieces of disassemble furniture. Mark had offered to help him set up his desk but Louis had wanted privacy more than he wanted order.

“Sweetie,” his mother greeted fondly, “How was the big move?” Her tone was hopeful and Louis wanted to tell her it was horrible and a mistake and that if it wasn't too late he was prepared to move to the city with her and the girls. Screw staying in Amherst for his last year of school with all his friends.

But he knew that it _was_ too late and besides, he didn't didn't want to worry his mom. She already felt guilty enough about the move and uprooting the girls from their comfortable lives.

“It's been all right.” It was a half honest answer. “Mark's been awesome and Harry helped.” Louis left out the fact that he had sat in the backyard on an old tire swing, absolutely morose, and hadn't done a thing to help. He had listened to Mark and Harry chatter amiably with one another the whole time.

Not once had Harry complained about Louis' lack of participation.

Truthfully, that made Louis dislike him more because he _knew_ that had the situation been reversed he would have been passive aggressively whining about Harry the whole time. Although maybe Harry was a smart cookie and he secretly knew that it killed Louis to hear Mark and Harry having their precious father/son bonding time. It hurt way more than any petty bitching ever would have that was for certain.

“Oh good,” Johannah breathed, relief painting her tone as she admitted, “I was worried about you and Anne's kids not hitting it off.” And it took Louis just a bit off guard that his mom referred to Anne by name.

Which was stupid because what else was she going to call her? The other woman that met your step-father after we had divorced and therefore wasn't an other woman at all?

Instead of voicing any of these thoughts, Louis just laughed. “We're not mates or anything, mom,” he assured her. “But he's not a total knob.” He smiled, knowing that whatever she said next, she would be smiling too.

“Louis Tomlinson, I don't want to hear that word again.”

Louis rolled his eyes, wishing she could see it but knowing she would just _hear_ his eye roll in his tone. “I'm eighteen mom.”

“I'm sorry,” she retorted, “I wasn't aware that manners had an age limit.”

And people asked him where he got it, Louis thought fondly just as he heard a knock on his door. He stared at the old mahogany separating him and whoever it was that wanted him and willed them to go away. Couldn't he just have a few more moments of normalcy?

Another polite knock. Too quiet to be Harry, Louis figured.

“Sorry mom,” Louis said, “I've got to go,” and he hoped he didn't sound as disappointed as he felt.

There was a pause on the line and another knock.

“Just a minute,” Louis called, frustrated. Couldn't a boy say a proper goodbye to his mother?

“I'll talk to you tomorrow then, all right, love?” And maybe it was just Louis, but Johannah sounded just as crushed as him. “You take care and be nice and tell Zayn and Niall that I say hello,” she continued, voice becoming brighter and feeling like sunshine on his skin. It lit up his smoker's teeth room and made it feel like home.

“Yeah, mom. I will.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“Louis.”

“I love you, mom,” Louis sighed, the perfect picture of a teenager and his mom laughed and he laughed and there was another goddamn knock.

“There it is. Bye for real now, love,” Johannah soothed and then the line went dead before Louis could keep the conversation going just a little bit longer – hold onto the moment.

After tucking his phone into his back pocket, Louis made his way to the door, pulling it open forcefully, ready to unleash his frustration on whoever was on the other side of the door.

Except the person on the other side of the door looked very much like a lovely woman, and a mother at that, and Louis couldn't very well go being an asshole to Anne just after he'd gotten off the phone with his own mother and had received a lecture on manners.

Curse his guilty conscience anyway.

For her part, Anne was smiling at him tentatively, both hands clasped nervously in front of her. Louis couldn't help but notice that Harry had gotten his dimples from her.

“Hey,” he said, deflating against the door just beyond exhausted. “Mark said you and... Gemma, right?... were out having a spa day or something today?”

Anne nodded.

“Good then?” Louis asked, glancing at her hands and seeing that they were freshly manicured.

“It was lovely, thank you,” she responded, then extended a hand to him, “I'm Anne, though I'm sure you've guessed as much. I just want to say how happy we are to have you here with us.”

Never one to forget his manners – Ha! - Louis accepted the offered handshake, hating that he was liking Anne thus far. Curse women that just _seemed_ like mothers because they were impossible to hate.

“Yeah, thanks for letting me stay. Would've sucked moving for my last year,” Louis agreed, taking his hand back and hoping that was it for the touching. Thankfully Anne had no surprise hugs for him as she backed away.

“Supper's downstairs whenever you're ready.” With a final smile, she headed down the hall towards the stairs and Louis just stood there like an idiot.

Across from him the wall was decorated with a collage of frames full of pictures of Harry and Gemma as beautifully dimpled children; those ones only had Anne, but the more recent ones – ones from this year – had pictures of Harry, Gemma, Anne, and Mark. There was a photo of their Hawaiian wedding. Just the four of them and Louis felt a pang of jealousy. He hadn't wanted to go but the fact that Mark had never asked him to be his best man still stung.

It wasn't as if he and Mark hadn't been in contact for the last three years either. Mark had been to every football match, they'd gone for lunch every month or so, they talked on the phone when Louis had issues that his mom couldn't help with – issues he needed his _dad_ for. His relationship with Mark wasn't the problem and it wasn't the thing that made Louis' gut wrench.

It was just... the whole time Louis and Mark had been doing all these things together, Mark had been building this completely separate family that Louis had absolutely no part in. Louis didn't even have a fucking picture on the wall in their home. Neither did the girls.

Of course it was at that exact moment, while Louis was glaring daggers at Mark's wall of family fun, that Harry came _sauntering_ out of his room. Louis noted with a sense of dry humour that it would figure that Harry's room would be the one that was essentially across from his.

For his part, Harry obviously wasn't stupid because he looked at the wall then at Louis, repeated the process once, and then offered an empathetic shrug, his face too full of understanding before he passed without saying a word.

It pissed Louis off that Harry was so mature about all of this. Wasn't he supposed to be Louis' junior by a year? What the hell.

Really though, what pissed Louis off the most was that he couldn't help but stare after Harry's ass in a way that was wholly inappropriate for a step-brother.

\- - -

Supper was an adventure in and of itself. After getting himself up and over the hump that was his apparent hots for his step-brother, Louis made his way downstairs and seated himself in the only open seat. He was astutely aware of the fact that his entrance had killed whatever conversation was happening, which really just made him feel very much like an elephant as the sounds from his every movement were amplified by the silence.

He tucked in his chair with a screech. And of course in the process of doing so he managed to bump his knee against the table leg. He looked up at the faces all staring at him, and – save for Mark – it was stepford smiles and dimples for miles. God this was uncomfortable.

“You lot literally could not make this any more awkward for me,” Louis informed them as he picked up the bowl of spaghetti noodles and began piling the pasta onto his plate, noting everyone's reactions. Harry raised an eyebrow, amused; Anne covered her mouth to smother a shocked cough; the girl that could only be Gemma barked out a breathy laugh; and Mark just rolled his eyes, fond and not at all surprised.

For his part, Louis smiled innocently, replacing the bowl of spaghetti at the table's centre. “Sauce please?”

“I'm Gemma; nice to meet you too, Louis. I can already tell we'll get along splendidly,” Gemma announced as she handed Louis the sauce. He took it, staring at her and feeling a little bit taken aback by how hot she was. She continued speaking, “Shame I'll be off to uni in a few days.”

Louis watched as Harry gave his sister a sideways glance. “Yeah, real shame,” he teased.

“It's probably for the best,” Mark agreed with a laugh, which confused Louis.

Did everyone secretly hate Gemma? Was she just this hot raging bitch with dimples? In the back of his mind, Louis was very aware that his friends would all have had the hots for her and he'd be expected to go along with it all.

“So you're the one no one likes then?” he asked, making eye contact with Gemma. He tried not to look too amused with the round of surprised reactions he received again. Though he doubted he had any real success with that. Louis loved throwing people out of their comfort zones.

With that being said, he may have met his match in Gemma.

“Absolutely not.” She didn't miss a beat, smiling pleasantly as she informed him, “I'm the one that usually does exactly what you're doing now – being a sarcastic little shit for reactions. Only I'm better at it.” She proceeded to wink

And well, Louis couldn't really do a whole lot more than close his mouth – because he was gaping like an idiot – and say, “Touché.”

\- - -

Louis' first night in the new home was long and suspiciously sleepless. He kept hearing strange noises, noises that were obviously part of the house but that he was in no way accustomed to. It didn't help that his mind wouldn't shut up. He kept replaying the supper scene and Gemma's calling him out and his cheeks would flush because Harry had just thought that was the funniest thing to ever happen. It pissed Louis off even more that he actually _cared_ that Harry had enjoyed his verbal asskicking at the hands of Gemma. His awkward slightly incesty attraction to Harry aside, Louis had thought the boy was on his side. He'd been so understanding and empathetic up until that moment that it had blind-sided Louis.

Anne, bless her, had tried to salvage Louis' pride but the damage was done. And Louis knew it was bound to happen every now and again; he would meet someone that wouldn't sit by and let him run his mouth at his leisure. He had accepted a long time ago that it would happen.

He just hadn't expected it to happen here, in the new home that wasn't really his home, at the hands of his hot sister that wasn't really his sister.

As he'd laid in bed reviewing his humiliation, Louis had been visited by Mark, who had sneaked into his room in the dead of night, flicking on a lamp Louis hadn't even known he had.

“Hey bud, how's it going?” he had asked and Louis had thought, there it is: bud. The endearment he'd heard Mark use for Harry as well. It felt dirty. Used. Recycled. Louis wanted to shake it off and give it back.

As Mark settled on his bed, Louis shifted up into a sitting position, unable to keep the guarded expression from his face. “It's going,” he replied, wondering what it was Mark wanted.

“I'm happy you're here and I wanted to come let you know that,” Mark confessed and Louis knew he was being genuine but it just didn't ring true. Not when Louis was in a house full of someone else's memories and no trace of the last thirteen years of his life.

“Thanks.” Louis was being awkward and closed off and he couldn't look at Mark because then he'd see his expression fall. So he began carefully picking at his duvet cover, pulling off little balls of lint that weren't even there.

“Something's bugging you.” Mark was an astute one, Louis had to give him that.

“It's been a long day.” He hoped that would be enough to deter Mark.

“Lou, I know you better than that. Raised you since you were so tiny you didn't even reach my knees.”

And that irritated Louis. “Really?” he asked, tone washed with acid, “Who would know that? To look at this place, you'd be surprised to discover I even existed. That _we_ even existed,” he countered, referring to not only himself, but the girls as well.

Mark breathed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had known this was coming. “Listen, bud,” – and there it was _again;_ that term that made Louis want to crawl out of his skin – “The common rooms don't have pictures of our other families, mine or Anne's. But we've – all of us – we've got our keepsakes. My office has loads of pictures of you and the girls; I've even got a few with your mom in them. So does the bedroom. Harry and Gem have pictures of their dad in their rooms.” He paused, looking at Louis for a reaction but Louis was carefully keeping his face blank. He'd felt sick when Mark had referred to _his_ family as the “other” family as if they were soiled and less than this one. But maybe he just wanted to be angry right now.

“I love you, Lou,” Mark continued when it was obvious that Louis wasn't going to be speaking, “And you will always be my son. Til the day I die, right? And I'm not lying when I tell you how happy it makes me that we're living together again and that I can see you every day. You're my boy. Always have been always will be.”

Louis' throat burned and he nodded, careful not to look at Mark.

“I'll show you around the office tomorrow, all right? I've even got your first footie trophy in there from when I coached your first team.” He placed a warm heavy hand on Louis' shoulder, jolting Louis into looking at him.

Maybe it was the light but Louis thought Mark's eyes were suspiciously shiny. The tickling in the back of his throat strengthened and he fought back the warm unshed tears collecting in his eyes.

“I'm putting a massive photo of myself up in the middle of that wall outside my room since I'm here now,” Louis told Mark and his voice sounded oddly thick.

Mark breathed a quiet laugh. “I'll get it framed for you and will personally make room for it,” he promised and that was enough for Louis.

“Thanks,” Louis whispered because the lump in his throat had grown and he suddenly didn't have a voice.

“Anytime,” Mark said and Louis heard the tiny crack in his voice. “You try to get some sleep now,” he urged and then just as quickly as he had entered Louis' room, he left.

Unfortunately, while the conversation had put Louis' worries at ease, it didn't do anything to stop his mind from going super speed through every possible thought. For hours he laid in his new bed wondering about anything and everything.

Did Harry and he go to the same high school?

Why had he never met Mark's other family? Not once.

What was Harry and Gemma's dad like and did they see him often too?

Did he have other kids like Mark did?

Did Harry and Gemma know the girls existed?

And on it went until finally the birds were chirping and the sun was slowly making it's way through Louis' window. It wasn't until then that his eyes felt heavy and he knew that they would be swollen and weighed down by dark blue bags.

Finally, for the first time in his new home, Louis fell asleep.

\- - -

It was late in his second evening when Louis was in his room, blasting an old Arctic Monkeys album from his ipod dock and making his way through the piles of boxes around him that he and Harry first really interacted.

It started with Harry approaching the open door, floppy grin on his face as he sang along to the song that was playing, “You used to get it in your fishnets now you only get it in your night dress.”

Louis looked up, surprised at the interruption and at Harry's voice in equal parts. Sex on legs the step-brother could sing.

He really needed to stop mentally referring to Harry as sex on legs. It was abysmally inappropriate.

“Discarded all the naughty nights for niceness landed in a very common crisis,” Louis sang back, deciding to go along with whatever it was that was happening.

It seemed Harry took that as an invitation to enter because he crossed the threshold into Louis' room, falling onto the bed unceremoniously and wailing, “Oh the boy's a slag! The best you ever had the best you ever had is just a memory and those dreams!”

“And who said you were allowed on my bed?” Louis cut in, eyes twinkling brightly, because he didn't really care but he just so _loved_ being contrary. A close second on the list of things he loved was the strip of skin right above Harry's pant line that was now exposed thanks to his antics.

And that would be considered a Bad Thought.

Harry shrugged, still singing, “Flicking through a little book of sex tips,” and then he spoke, keeping the rhythm, eyes absolutely _glinting_ as he leaned over the bed towards Louis, “Remember when the boys were all _electric_?” and Louis would swear from the way Harry flicked his tongue over the word 'electric' that this was flirting. Well he would swear it was flirting if this were anyone _other_ than his sex on legs step-brother. Because that would just be utterly inappropriate. Almost as inappropriate as nicknaming your step-brother Sex on Legs. Which was another Bad Thought.

Oh damn it all.

“You still haven't answered my question,” Louis said dryly as he stuffed one of his shirts – how did he have so many? – into his dresser drawer, refusing to blush at the attention.

Yep.

“Likes her gentlemen not to be gentle,” Harry continued because there was no stopping him and his glinting eyes and exposed stomach and goddamn dimples. “Was it a Mecca Dobber or a betting pencil?” He stopped singing suddenly to laugh. “That's my favourite line,” he informed Louis.

But Louis didn't get it.

“Don't even know what a “mecha dobbler” or whatever is,” Louis dismissed, trying not to get caught up in whatever Harry was doing, then added, “And you _still_ haven't explained to me why you're on my bed.”

“It's a bingo marker,” Harry explained, mirth still lighting up his expression as he completely ignored Louis' second request. “Just think about it then think about dicks and make the connection,” he advised – Louis absolutely did _not_ sputter – and then, when Louis opened his mouth with a sharp expression, ready to get on the bed issue _again_ because they did not need to be talking about dicks, Harry said, “And I'm on your bed because it's a good bed and it's a sight better than perching on one of these boxes.”

“All right then,” Louis conceded because it was good logic, which brought a wide grin to Harry's face and Louis decided Harry had the capacity and potential to be nearly as overwhelming as his mate Niall.

“You need help unpacking?” Harry asked, gesturing vaguely at the boxes stacked around the room. “I can do it while you sit in the backyard if you'd like,” he added, lips twitching as he clearly struggled to maintain a sombre expression.

“Funny,” Louis said in a tone that let Harry know Louis didn't think it was the slightest bit funny.

“Right then,” Harry said, hopping off the bed and reaching into the nearest box, “So where should I put thi--” his words were cut short and his cheeks glowed red as he realized what box he'd reached into.

Of course he had a handful of Louis' best gitch.

Really, it was a tiny miracle. A blessing in disguise because Louis was just happy he hadn't reached into the box full of different lubes – he'd had to try a few before finding the one that worked best, all right? – and condoms. Louis wasn't out as gay and he'd only ever gotten as far hand jobs with a few boys but he had bought the lube and condoms just in case. And because sometimes he wanted to try things out on his own. So sue him.

“You're blushing,” Louis observed, absolutely merciless, which only deepened Harry's blush as the boy dropped the handful of underwear back into the box. “Haven't you seen another boy's briefs before?”

And that may have sounded a bit gay.

And it also may have sent Louis' mind to wondering if Harry swung that way.

Another one for the Bad Thought category!

And apparently while Louis was unravelling himself, Harry had taken the time to _compose_ himself because he was suddenly smirking at Louis and Louis had no idea what was coming, he just knew he needed to brace himself.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” Harry mused in his slow lazy tone.

...

And that wasn't so bad.

Well, minus the fact that it very much implied that Louis wanted to know about Harry's sex life, which he did...n't. Didn't.

“Cheeky,” Louis said a little snidely, tossing the last of his shirts from his current box into his drawer. “Remember that moment where I didn't even invite you into my room?” he reminded Harry, who just laughed.

Louis wasn't trying to be funny.

“I'll see you tomorrow then,” Harry chuckled, rolling off Louis' bed and stretching, exposing more of his delicious stomach and Louis' blood was not pounding through his veins. “Have a good one, yeah?” Harry said, looking down at Louis as he backed towards the door, all done with stretching – thank God.

“Yeah, you too.”

And with that Harry left, closing the door behind him, shutting Louis in his room with all his hormones and feelings. With a dramatic grown, Louis fell backwards onto his bed, burying his head in his hands.

This had to be what it felt like to be a thirteen year old girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I decided to place the story in a fictional town because this way I can do whatever I want with the setting and not worry about being inaccurate. I know I could still do that with Cheshire or Doncaster, but I'd still worry someone would call me out on inaccuracies so this is my simple solution. I'm making a lot of shit up when it comes to timelines with their families and such because I can.
> 
> The song used in this chapter is Fluorescent Adolescent by the Arctic Monkeys.
> 
> Sorry in advance for the shit these lovely gents will be going through but I hope you enjoy! xo


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 “Louis my boy! Come here!”

 Louis grinned, savouring the little dinging of the bell as he entered _Borislav's_. He was just barely through the door when he was engulfed in a hug by the world's largest man.

 “Hey Boris,” he greeted the _enormous_ Russian man that was loosening his grip to hold Louis' shoulders, giving him a fond shake. Louis had always figured it was a Russian thing – shaking someone to show affection. Although it could have just as easily been a Boris thing.

Borislav's shop was a quaint place. One of those little run down corner stores with paint peeling on the walls and half the light bulbs out on the front sign. But it was one of Louis' favourite places in the world. He had practically grown up in the tiny shop, racing over every day after school on his bike and rushing through the door with wind whipped hair and flushed cheeks. He'd charge right up to the counter, hop onto a stool and say, “Milkshake,” all business like and he'd snap his fingers and, like magic, there it would be. His large chocolate oreo milkshake with extra whipped topping and two cherries on top. Borislav would laugh, the coarse whiskers above his mouth that were meant to be a moustache vibrating and his bulbous belly shaking with his mirth. Then he would reach across the counter to ruffle Louis' already destroyed hair, asking about his day and listening as if he actually cared about the new basket Peter had on his bike.

Some days Louis would bring his best friend Zayn with him and they'd both sit at the counter, sipping their free milkshakes, comic books spread out in front of them by the dozens, swapping back and forth as they each found a new favourite part or hero or sometimes even _villain_. Boris was a gruff old man and he hadn't necessarily _liked_ Zayn, not like he liked Louis, but he was all right to him. At the least, he wasn't just straight up miserable to Zayn the way he was with most people. Louis was convinced that Boris was his biological grandfather or something and that was why he was so good to Louis. Or maybe it was because the first time Louis had been in the shop with his mother – at the tender age of four – he had told Boris to “Watch the way you speak to my mom, buddy” when the old man had rudely suggested she hurry up and get what she wanted or leave.

Johannah had been sure Boris was going to physically toss Louis out but the old man had just thrown back his head and boomed out the most thunderous laugh Louis had ever heard in his life.

And that had been that. Zero to one hundred in a single sentence. Louis had never _changed_ Boris though. The old Russian man was still beyond wretched to everyone that wasn't Louis and sometimes Zayn and – on very rare occasions – Niall.

Honestly, with Boris' horrible attitude and endless freebies for Louis it was a wonder his shop had stayed open all these years. The boys had their suspicions that the Russians were behind it all and were financing _Borislav's_ because Boris was some sort of Russian war hero or something.

Louis smiled fondly at the gruff old man. He had to be in his mid seventies now and rain or shine his little shop was always open. It was that Russian work ethic, Boris always told him.

Or the Russian government, Louis always thought in response with a quirk of his lips.

“So how are things around here then?” Louis asked as he scuffed his feet on the floor, idly making his way to the counter, a large grin on his face as he took in the familiar surroundings. “Sorry I haven't been around much lately.”

“Shop goes same as always,” Boris replied in his thick accent. “I see you still like jacket,” he observed, plucking at Louis' coat. It was without a doubt the most bad ass thing Louis owned.

It was a thick camel coloured coat that hung just lower than Louis' waist with huge carved black buttons up the front and on the shoulders, and a pinwheel pattern stitched on the sleeve. Boris had given it to him for his twelfth birthday, claiming that his grandfather had worn it during the war and had passed it on to Boris. Since he couldn't very well fit it anymore he'd decided why not give it to Louis – one more reason Louis was convinced Borislav was his long lost grandfather. At twelve the coat had been huge on Louis, who had always been tiny for his age, but he had worn that damn jacket every single day, informing anyone that dared make fun of it that it was a _Bolshevik_ jacket and that it was blessed by Russian Gods.

Zayn had been perfectly green with jealousy.

Still was and never bothered denying it.

“This thing?” Louis said, holding his arms out and looking at them disinterestedly, “Ah, you know. It keeps me warm, I guess.” He smirked as Boris let out an affronted huff.

“Louis. This jacket is chick magnet!” he roared proudly, straightening the cuff for Louis as he went on to warn, “Don't make me think I give jacket to wrong person.” Louis leaned back as Boris' huge meaty finger waggled in his face, wondering how Boris would react if Louis admitted he hoped it could double as a fag magnet.

“I'm just pulling your chain, Boris. You know I know this jacket's the coolest thing I'll ever own.” Louis continued past Boris as he spoke, plopping down on his seat at the counter and snapping his fingers with a cheeky grin.

“You better,” Boris warned as he lumbered over to the ice cream machine to get Louis' order ready. “How is new family?” he asked as he tossed two massive scoops of chocolate ice cream into the large tin cup.

Well that was a loaded question that Louis didn't even have an answer to.

“Good,” he paused because that was sort of a lie. “Weird.”

They were wonderful people, he knew that after only three days. He honestly couldn't hope for anything more for Mark because they made him happy the way he hoped someone would one day make his mom happy. But it was just... weird – there was no better word for it – living in his dad's house with his dad's new family that he had no part of.

“You don't like?” Boris asked, obviously confused as he put the milkshake on to mix.

“No, that's not it,” Louis was quick to correct. “I like them fine. I'd probably be friends with Harry and Gemma – Mark's stepkids – if we weren't in this situation.” Which was an understatement because Louis would be drooling after Harry and his curls and drawl and legs for days without even an ounce of shame. “It just kind of feels like I'm playing house with someone else's family or something.”

Niall would have made fun of him for that stupidly creative observation. But... Louis couldn't help but feel like he'd hit the nail right on the head there.

“They treat you wrong you tell me,” Boris told him as he finished up Louis' milkshake, pouring it into a to go cup and placing it before him on the counter. “We have deal?”

Louis laughed. “Sure,” he agreed as he picked up his milkshake and headed for the door. “Thanks, Boris. I'll come by with Zayn sometime soon,” he promised.

“No blond kid though,” Boris hollered as Louis opened the door and that really got Louis going.

“No Niall,” he assured Boris, laughing as he walked out the door, the little bell chiming overhead to announce his departure. His cheeks hurt from how hard he was smiling and truly, he had no idea what was making him more amused: How hit and miss Boris was about Niall or the idea of Boris sending Bolshevik assassins after the Styles family if they fucked with him.

\- - -

Louis was still working on his milkshake when Zayn arrived, ringing the doorbell as if he wasn't more family to Louis than three quarters of the people living in the house.

“You went to Boris' without me, you fucker?” Zayn demanded the second Louis opened the door and Louis just adopted an innocent wide eyed expression, not bothering to reply as he stepped to the side, letting Zayn pass him and enter the Styles-Tomlinson home.

“What's Boris'?” came a voice from just behind them and both Zayn and Louis turned to see Harry coming down from upstairs. “Sorry, just heard the doorbell and didn't know you were gonna get it,” he added upon seeing the accusatory looks he was getting.

“Not a big deal,” Louis brushed off, waving his hand dismissively, “And Borislav's is literally the coolest place you'll never see.”

Zayn laughed as he toed off his shoes, offering no greeting or further explanation. He was a man of few words.

“And why's that?” Harry asked, approaching the pair and holding out a hand to Zayn. “Hey, I'm Harry.” And there were the dimples again. It was stupid how they made Louis' stomach twist up a bit.

After shaking Harry's hand, Zayn grabbed Louis' milkshake, taking a long sip. Sighing blissfully, he nodded his head at Harry. “Zayn. And you're not going because Boris is a grumpy son of a bitch and you'd be in tears before the end of it.”

“Basically that,” Louis concurred with a sharp nod of his head. “And also because you wouldn't be able to handle his milkshake.”

“It literally brings all the boys to the yard.”

“Literally. He's not even shitting you mate,” Louis said gravely, snatching back the current focus of their conversation and taking a deep sip from the straw. If heaven could fit into your mouth, it would be Borislav's milkshake.

“Maybe I wouldn't be able to handle the milkshake but I'm sure I could find a thing or two to do with boys in the yard,” Harry replied slowly – it killed Louis how every word out of Harry's mouth sounded careful and fully thought through – and there was that goddamn twinkle in his eye and--

He fucking just winked at Louis.

And Louis _was not_ blushing.

Also, Louis was not openly gay and would need to have a discussion with Harry about... About what? The fact that Harry's dubious flirting, which shouldn't be happening in the first place, could only happen behind closed doors?

Right.

Glancing at Zayn, Louis noticed that he was eyeing Harry thoughtfully. Just sort of staring him down with a focused expression – like the one he got when he was drawing.

Speaking of which...

“Yo Zayn!” Louis said suddenly, tossing Harry half a glare when he mockingly chirped 'yo', “Was thinking maybe you wanted to paint a mural on my wall or something. It's a shit colour, looks like smoker's teeth.”

He didn't even care if Harry was offended. Honestly, it was probably Harry's old room and that was the colour he had picked once upon a time.

“Hey, I picked that colour when it used to be my room!”

Sometimes the world was just too perfect.

“Still doesn't make it a good colour,” Louis retorted before looking to Zayn, “So?”

“Yeah, mate. You want me to just do my thing on it?” he asked, and if Louis didn't know Zayn as well as he did he would have thought Zayn was totally 'meh' about the idea. As it was even though his face was mostly blank, there was a small shift in his energy that told Louis Zayn was in fact tinkled pink that he had been asked to go Art Man all over Louis' wall.

“Yeah, come look at it,” Louis said, starting to lead the way to his room but bumping into Harry, who was sort of a contradiction because he was too awkward to realize that Louis and Zayn had been planning to hang out alone but he wasn't actually awkward to hang around.

Louis and Zayn shared a look, using their best friend telepathy to communicate.

“If you're not busy you can hang with us,” Louis offered.

Of course Harry said yes.

\- - -

That was how Louis, Zayn, Harry, and Niall ended up in the Amherst town square at three in the morning, all totally blitzed and up to no good at all.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Louis hissed, dragging the sound out as long as his little lungs would allow. The square was completely silent save for the stifled giggles of three of the boys and Louis' insistent shushing.

Louis, Harry, and Zayn had hung out all afternoon; they watched movies, played video games, munched on nachos, and had an all around manly day with no awkwardness. At around nine Niall had come by with a backpack full of beer slung over his shoulder.

They had gotten drunk and then decided a walk was in order. Which was all fine and dandy and completely appropriate, but somewhere along the way they had encountered a truck that had a saggy plastic blue ballsack hanging from the hitch and they had all lost it. During their hysterics, Louis – ever the mischief maker – had decided it was prudent that they take the blue balls with them.

Which brought them to the town square where everyone was being utterly useless as Louis tried taping – Zayn had randomly had a roll of tape on him for who knows what reason – the blue balls to the Jesus statue in front of the church.

“Ay, put 'em up a bit higher there! They're designed with a natural sag, Lou!” Niall directed through his fits of laughter. He could barely stand upright he was so pissed. With his one arm swung over Harry's shoulders he was still nearly doubled over and swaying on his feet.

“Maybe the Lord's balls hang ultra low,” Zayn mused, seeming quiet and subdued next to Niall's natural exuberance.

“We are going to Hell,” Harry announced for about the tenth time and received a punch in the arm from Niall... for the tenth time. “Ow, fucker!”

And for the tenth time a pathetic cat fight broke out behind Louis.

“Shut up, you dumb bitches!” Louis yelled at them, spinning around to glare at them, and there was silence. “Thank you.”

He turned back around – well stumbled around but who cared about details? - and carefully removed his hand from the balls, ready to catch them in the event that the tape didn't hold. This was it.

“It's holding!” Harry actually _squealed_ and Louis felt like this was a defining moment in his life. Grinning he spun around from his place above the boys on the pedestal the statue stood upon.

“Catch me!” he said dramatically, casting his arms open wide and turning around.

No part of Louis even saw the potential for this to be a bad idea as he fell back, drunkenly trusting in his equally drunk friends... the friends that could hardly hold themselves up.

“Oh shit!” Zayn yelped but Louis was already too far back.

“What do you mean oh shi-” Louis yelled, panicked because gravity had already taken him and he was falling and he was going to crack his head open and die and no one would bother coming to his funeral because he had just defaced Jesus.

But then three pairs of hands caught his shoulders, which unfortunately meant Louis' heels slammed into the ground, jolting and painful, but at least it wasn't his head.

And wow.

From this angle it one hundred percent looked like Jesus had saggy blue balls.

“I'm an artist,” Louis breathed.

“More like an arsonist,” Harry corrected as Louis pushed free of their arms to really see what he had done.

“Don't arsonists burn shit?” Niall asked, scratching the back of his head in confusion.

“Terrorist?” Harry suggested.

“Nah, nothing was bombed,” Niall reasoned.

“You guys!” Louis attempted to interrupt them but they were too deep into their meaningless conversation.

“It's vandal,” Zayn informed them, the corners of his lips quirked up in a smirk.

“Oooooooh,” Niall and Harry breathed in unison as if Zayn had just offered up valuable information.

And they were all _missing_ the point here!

“No, seriously look, you shitheads!” Louis gesticulated very aggressively in the direction of the blue balled Jesus. “Who cares what I am? It's fucking perfect.”

They all stopped, looking at the Jesus statue with varying degrees of intrigue and swaying like they were in the audience of a show during a power ballad.

“It's all right,” Zayn agreed. And he might as well have said it was the best thing ever.

“Thank you!” Louis clapped his hands together, bowing his head in his best friend's direction. He could always count on Zayn to back him up. He looked round at Harry and Niall, who were once again holding each other up.

“How did you two get grade nine drunk?” Louis demanded when it became obvious that they were too busy giggling to appreciate Louis' work.

“The beeeer, Lou,” Niall basically whined at Louis. Harry just shrugged with his stupid crooked grin, offering no answer.

“All right ladies,” Louis snapped, “Let's get you all back to ours because we are not passing out at the scene of the crime.” With that, the boys began making their way to Harry and Louis' home, Zayn and Louis leading the way while dumb and dumber... or drunk and drunker – either worked – took up the rear.

“Congratulations on making the front page of the paper,” Zayn mused, a half smile playing upon his lips.

Louis grinned. He was basically on the brink of being an unsung hero.

“I'm the next Banksy...” he murmured to himself, happy that Zayn didn't bother contesting the statement.

\- - -

Two days before school started – one week since he'd moved in with Mark – and Louis couldn't say he felt that much more settled in his new home. Granted, he'd only been living with Mark and the Styleses for a week. He and Harry were basically mates at this point. After their drunken adventure the previous Saturday evening they hadn't hung out as a group with Niall and Zayn, which was probably for the best because apparently the four of them plus alcohol was a lethal combination. As the headlines over the course of the week were sure to remind the boys every day.

There was an actual investigation happening. Louis had nearly had a panic attack when he had walked by the scene of the crime that Sunday and saw the police dusting for finger prints. Luckily, Harry was as smart as he was pretty and informed Louis that as long as Louis' prints weren't already in the system there was no way they could make the connection.

The town was basically divided into two camps: those who thought BB Jesus (blue balled Jesus) was the funniest thing to ever happen in the town's history and those that were on the verge of forming a lynch mob.

To be honest, Louis hadn't liked being able to have a good night's sleep anyway, so the constant worrying was actually quite a relief.

Cue the 'not' joke.

Anyway, Harry had been hanging out with his best mate Liam most of the week. He'd invited Louis along a few times but Zayn was working on the mural in his room so that was where Louis had been spending most of his time. Liam hadn't actually ever been to the house so he was sort of a question mark. Louis, Zayn, and Niall had taken to calling him Harry's imaginary friend.

Which is why they were so surprised the day he showed his admittedly pretty face. Niall, Zayn, and Louis were all in Louis' room munching on crisps and watching the paint dry as they planned for their final year of high school.

“We're gonna have to come up with something that's bloody mind boggling for frosh,” Niall said for the third time. “Topping BB Jesus is gonna take some real planning.”

Louis cringed. “Right because I need one more reason to worry that the town's going to lynch me,” he muttered sarcastically, earning a sympathetic look from Zayn.

“Lynch us,” he corrected, “We were all there, mate.”

“You've lost your spark,” Niall continued as if Zayn hadn't spoken. “I think we just need to get you back on the prank train. You pulled any good ones on Harry yet?”

That got Louis' attention. “Hadn't even thought of it,” he admitted, a bit embarrassed with himself to be frank. “How pathetic.” He was disgusted with himself.

“A bit, yeah,” Niall commiserated right before he stuffed a handful of Doritos into his mouth.

“You should switch his hair gel out for your spunk,” Zayn said, a quiet smile dotting his expression.

Louis held back his retort that Harry might be into that.

“You know, I've got a feeling he'd be into that,” Niall mused around his mouthful of crisps.

All right then. So Louis wasn't projecting his homosexual desires onto Harry and pretending he was probably bent too. Everyone else had noticed as well. Good to know!

“You too?” Zayn asked casually and for one terrifying moment Louis wondered if they had had this discussion about Louis before.

“Yeah. Not that it matters,” Niall said and he may have darted a glance at Louis or Louis could be imagining things because he was suddenly very paranoid.

“The milkshake comment had me wondering,” Louis added coolly, cool as a Blues Brother really.

“What milkshake comment?” Niall perked up at that, shifting up from his previous lounging position on Louis' bed and rearranging himself until he was cross legged.

Zayn chuckled. “Right? Basically said even if he couldn't handle Boris' milkshakes, he'd be more than capable of handing all the boys that would be brought to the yard.”

Niall barked out a laugh. “He really said that?” he asked, disbelief wrinkling his nose.

“That was nearly word for word, mate,” Zayn confirmed, beginning to pick at the leather wrap bracelet he was wearing.

“Well I guess somebody's gotta handle the boys, ay?” Niall reflected and the trio fell into a comfortable silence, their gazes falling to the half finished mural on Louis' wall. It was basically a comic book nerd's wet dream. It was set up like a comic strip, the panels containing a mix of made up and real superheroes. The biggest panel held the best superhero Louis and Zayn had ever created, modelling him after Boris. The Russian Beast was a hugely fierce man – bigger than Wolverine and hairier too – with an undersized Bolshevik jacket and camouflage cargo pants with large leather lace up boots for an outfit. His super power was the ability to consume inhuman amounts of vodka and to blow out a toxic cloud of cigarette smoke that paralysed anyone who inhaled it.

The powers had been based off of Johannah's response to their question, “What do all Russians do?” (“Drink vodka and smoke? I don't know. Why are you boys even asking me this?”)

The ringing of the doorbell broke the extended silence the boys were rather enjoying. Then there was the unmistakable sound of Harry galloping down the stairs. Just the other day Niall had said, “Is it just me or does it sound like a centaur is on the stairs?” and Louis had practically _shouted_ , “Right?” feeling completely vindicated.

“What if it's his imaginary friend?” Zayn asked lazily.

“Impossible, then he wouldn't be imaginary,” Louis countered and rolled his eyes at Zayn, who stuck his tongue out in response.

Niall shrugged, climbing off the bed, Doritos in hand. “Come on then,” he urged, “Might as well check it out.”

So the trio headed out the door and down the stairs to where Harry, Gemma, and a mysterious stranger were all hanging out.

“Hey guys!” Harry greeted them like an eager puppy. “Meet Liam!”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “Sorcery, Styles,” he accused as he approached Liam. “You've found some way to make your imaginary friend into a hologram.”

That had Gemma and Liam in stitches and Harry flushing a deep shade of red.

“What's going on?” Niall quietly muttered to Zayn of all people.

Giving Niall a look that clearly said 'why do you think I would know?', Zayn pointed to Liam, who was also giggling. “Not a fuckin' clue. Ask him.”

Liam turned to them and god he had a kind face, Louis thought as the newcomer smiled indulgently at them. Not that the rest of Louis' present company had nasty expressions or anything it was just – Liam just looked like the sort of person you bared your soul to. He supposed Harry had a bit of that quality too, now that he had even recognized it was a quality people could have.

Although he'd rather bare other things to--

And he'd been doing so good on the Bad Thoughts front.

“Harry was quite a weird a kid,” Liam explained, “and always had this imaginary friend named Jonas. And like he was absolutely convinced Jonas was real. Like swore they always hung out at the park together when Harry went. Then, I don't know, about three years ago I was out with Harry and Gem at the fair, right? And this guy comes over and is like, “Harry Styles, is that you?” and Harry's like “Jonas?” and Gem and I both literally had our jaws on the ground-”

“Was it the real Jonas?” Zayn asked, oddly involved in the story, considering the obvious outcome.

“Yeah, it was! Like we had made fun of Harry's imaginary friend Jonas for so long that he'd actually wondered once he was older if Jonas was actually real.”

“It was psychologically damaging,” Harry piped in, cheeks still burning. And maybe it was just Louis' imagination but he appeared to be watching Louis very closely. Checking in, almost.

“Gave you character,” Gemma corrected then hugged Liam. “All right, I'm off to do some last minute shopping before I head back to uni and my glamourous dorm life tomorrow, but I will see you when I get back, all right?”

Liam nodded, returning the hug with a warm expression and that odd feeling of intruding on someone else's family returned to Louis. He shifted uncomfortably and felt a hand on his forearm almost immediately. Zayn gave his arm a light squeeze and it was stupid, but knowing that Zayn understood what was going through Louis' mind was probably the biggest comfort Louis had in this whole life changing situation.

“Yeah, I'll still be here. Wouldn't want to miss the farewell dinner,” Liam replied earnestly as they released each other.

“I'll probably see the rest of you losers later too,” Gemma teased with a wink at Louis, heading out the door before anyone could reply.

There was a moment of silence and then...

“Dude, your sister is fit!”

Thank you, Niall.

\- - -

Later that night, after Gemma's farewell dinner, which had been delicious and had included the Styles-Tomlinson residents as well as Liam, Zayn, and Niall, Harry popped into Louis' room, collapsing on his bed as had become his routine. Louis shoved over, making room, and glanced at Harry from the corner of his eye. It wasn't fair that he already knew how Harry's curls looked all splayed out over his pillows. It just made quieting the Bad Thoughts even harder.

“I told you Liam was real,” Harry huffed by way of greeting, voice slow and quiet but still joyful. He mostly sounded tiredly content.

Louis felt exactly the way Harry sounded.

“If you're looking for an apology Styles you aren't getting one.” Louis turned his head to look at Harry in earnest, meeting his gaze. They held the eye contact perhaps a touch longer than necessary and Louis' stomach knotted up as he felt his skin heat.

“I know,” Harry stated, “I just had to get in my 'I told you so's' for my own piece of mind.” He elbowed Louis' arm for absolutely no reason and Louis swallowed thickly because now that tiny speck of a spot on his arm was tingling and it was all he could focus on.

“Well now that you've finished gloating you'll be off?” Louis drawled in a smart tone and hoped, no prayed – not to BB Jesus – that Harry didn't leave. He wanted just one – no _three_ more touches before Harry left. God, he'd have a good bedtime wank if that happened.

“Nah,” Harry rolled onto his side, staring at Louis a little intensely, “I'd rather stay here and endure your biting wit a bit longer if that's all right with you.” Sometimes he was such a gentleman that it killed Louis. He tried not to blush.

Staying composed – not letting out the thirteen year old girl squealing excitedly inside of him –, Louis let out a low whistle, “Kinky. Didn't peg you for the biting type, Styles.” Maybe that was a little far but it was what Harry had asked for. Biting wit. Why pull back on the shots because of a technicality like being step-brothers? Right?

Harry laughed, the sound low and musical and somehow more private than all the other times Louis had heard him laugh. “There's a lot you don't know about me,” he revealed, still staring Louis down with his just a bit too intense eyes.

“What else then?” Louis asked. “Make it juicy. Niall loves when I've got a good bit of gossip for him.”

“He would,” Harry said around half a smile, biting at his lip. “He's such a queen.”

Louis raised his eyebrows and before he had a chance to censor himself he said, “Bit rich coming from you,” and he was mortified with himself. To the point that he covered his mouth with his hand like an idiot, eyes wide as saucers as he examined Harry's expression to see what damage he had done.

“You noticed then?” Harry said, a bit sly, a bit cool, and a lot amused. “I don't really put much effort into hiding it, as you've obviously noticed.” Harry chuckled at Louis' wince. “Seriously Lou, you didn't just like force me out of the closet or anything.”

They were still so close on the bed and Harry was coming out to Louis and it was overwhelming and really, Louis had no idea how Harry did it. The thought of telling anyone his own sexuality, even Harry, who was gay and sitting right there, eyes open and accepting, beyond terrified him. It paralysed him. Felt like having a bucket of ice poured over his head when he _knew_ it was coming, which was so much worse because of the anticipation.

“Good for you then, I guess,” Louis said shortly. And he didn't _mean_ to sound snippy or snobby or rude but he just plain old sucked at hiding discomfort. One more reason to feel like a shit then.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Harry said in a defensive tone, a strange expression overtaking his face. Then there was silence. He was waiting for Louis to say something but Louis had nothing to say because he wasn't about to come out and if he tried to apologize he'd sound even more like a knob.

Harry rolled onto his back with a sigh that sounded more than a little frustrated. Louis looked at him, watched his eyes fixate on Louis' hero wall, on The Russian Beast and his bottle of vodka. He wanted to change the subject, to explain the odd picture to Harry, but he couldn't.

“You should go,” he said quietly and fuck did he feel awkward when Harry's head snapped to him.

“Probably should,” he agreed, hard and soft and hurt and Louis just wanted to sleep. Harry's weight on the bed beside him lifted as the boy got up, padding softly to the door.

“Sorry,” Louis practically whispered into the quiet.

“It's whatever,” Harry replied and then he was gone and the door was closed behind him and Louis was pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes because he shouldn't feel guilty _anyway_.

Harry was his dad's step-son for fuck's sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have any notes for this chapter other than to say Boris may very well be one of my favourite parts of this story so expect him to be a semi-frequent player because I just adore writing not just him but his relationship with Louis. I hope you enjoy it and I will hopefully have the next chapter out in the next few days! xo


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“How was your first day of school?”

Louis silently appreciated his new long distance relationship with his mother as he winced at the question. He didn't have to worry about her catching him lying nearly as often now that she only had his voice to read. As long as he did good at keeping a normal tone, she'd never know.

“Same as always,” he replied. And he wasn't exactly _lying_. Because the only real difference between this first day and all the one's before was that this time around Louis was aware of Harry's existence and Harry was trying to ignore Louis'. That sucked big blue balls.

“No detentions?” Johannah pried and Louis made an affronted sound.

“Not on the first day, mom. Jeez,” he grumbled, sounding far too much like a teenager for his own liking. “I like to give everyone at least a week to settle in before I start wreaking havoc.”

She didn't laugh. He hadn't really expected her to. Louis, his mom, and the detention topic were at odds with one another. Louis didn't think it should matter all that much provided his grades were up – he hadn't failed a subject yet – and Johannah thought it absolutely should matter because well raised children didn't get detention.

“Louis, I'm serious. This is your final year. The last thing you want on your record when you're off and applying to uni is a long list of indiscretions.” She sounded fried – just completely over the conversation. To be fair, she probably sounded that way because she was both of those things.

“I know, mom,” Louis sighed. “Look, I'll try to keep my mischief to a minimum, okay? I figure the last sixteen years of Harry's life have been too dull anyways. I'll get it out of my system here.”

It was a compromise but Johannah still groaned in exasperation. “Louis, spare him would you?” she practically pleaded.

“Mom, Harry needs a bit of excitement. I'll be doing him a favo--,” he began to assure her, but the phrase was cut short when he saw Harry pass his bedroom door, pausing to look at Louis with a confused expression.

“Is Harry there?” Johannah asked and there was a definite hint of amusement in her tone. She probably thought this was justice or something.

Louis smiled and waved at Harry, fighting down the frown that wanted to surface. “Yes mother. Harry is here,” he said, raising an eyebrow at the boy in question. Harry rolled his eyes, leaning against Louis' door frame.

“Is it awkward?” she asked and Louis decided she was enjoying this way too much. He shuffled over to his now assembled desk and dropped into the chair, spinning around, very aware of Harry's continued presence.

“Yes mother. It's extremely awkward,” he drawled, pausing in his spinning to wink at Harry.

He didn't get a smile in return. Although Louis was fairly certain he wouldn't be getting a smile for a while. The cold shoulder he had been receiving the last two days made it very clear that Harry was still not pleased with Louis.

“Well, I'll let you go then. Have a better day tomorrow and for heaven's sake, stay out of trouble will you?”

Louis thought briefly of the Jesus statue fiasco. “I will get in no trouble, mother. Cross my heart,” he promised with far too much cheek in his tone. “Love you.”

“Love you too, dear. Kisses and hugs from the girls as well.”

And that was that. Louis dropped his phone on his desk, turning to face Harry, who was still lingering, expression neutral.

“What's this about my life needing excitement then?” Harry quizzed, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.

It was utterly unfair that Louis had to share a roof with someone so attractive.

“Just small talk with my mom,” Louis answered with a dismissive flick of his wrist, “Nothing worth putting much thought into.”

Harry didn't say anything, only stared Louis down. Sometimes Harry was just awful.

“Harry, I said it's nothing,” Louis insisted, keeping his tone light.

Still no response, just that intense, unimpressed stare.

“Fine!” Louis threw his hands up, rising from his swivel chair and approaching Harry. “One two three four I declare a prank war,” he sing-songed at the taller boy, stopping just short of bumping into him.

“You're serious?” Harry asked, sceptical.

It was Louis' turn to raise an eyebrow, smirking as he replied, “Dead serious. I'm surprised you'd never heard of me at school before. I practically live in detention with Niall. Zayn, the slippery fuck always manages to keep his hands clean.”

“Give me an example,” Harry demanded.

“Last year we snuck into Mr. Cowell's room and taped open containers of anchovies to the underside of every desk,” Louis said, “And another time we piled all the furniture in his room in the middle and taped it all up. We even managed to hang his chair from the ceiling. It was a masterpiece.”

“That's always been you?” Harry asked incredulously and Louis was a bit insulted really. Because Harry had been there for the Jesus statue, how could he find it so hard to believe that Louis was capable of the same misconduct while sober?

“Every time,” Louis affirmed, more than a bit proud.

“So I should be watching my back then?” Harry's tone was slow and deliberate, his expression careful.

“It wouldn't be a bad idea,” Louis agreed with a very wise nod. “Never know what I could be planning.” And was that apprehension in Harry's expression?

“I'll give as good as I get,” Harry warned and that was hilarious.

Louis burst out laughing, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “All right, Styles. You tell yourself that.”

As Louis chuckled, Harry clenched his jaw, shooting daggers at Louis with his eyes. “I'm serious, Lou. Just because I'm not part of the Breakfast Club doesn't mean I don't have a trick or two up my sleeve.”

That was a rather good nickname for Niall, Zayn, and Louis' little group.

“I said, all right, Harry,” Louis assured him, “I believe you.”

His laughter contradicted his words but that was a minor detail. Especially when it made Harry huff, upset with Louis, and adorably so.

\- - -

It was the Friday of the first week of school and all was well with Harry and Louis. Louis hadn't yet found an opportunity to pull a prank on his younger housemate and Harry had forgiven Louis for being such a dick the week before. They were back to their nightly conversations, though it was obvious that they were both being careful to keep the topics light so as to avoid another conflict.

Which was fine with Louis, really. He wasn't good with his own deep and dark emotions so he figured he wasn't all that qualified to handle other people's. Problems just made him feel uncomfortable and he never knew what to do with them. He was thankful Niall and Zayn had learned over the course of their friendship that they had to treat Louis like an idiot when they needed emotional support because he was just _not_ intuitive. Whatever it was they wanted, whether that be a hug, for him to simply listen, or for him to be a shoulder to cry on, they needed to verbalize it.

He was also thankful that between the pair of them they were like a power team when it came to emotional support for Louis. Zayn knew what the people around him were in need of long before they ever figured it out for themselves, and even Niall, with his constant jokes and frenetic energy, was one of the most comforting souls Louis had ever known. He seemed like he missed a lot because he was always just so _much_ , but the truth was he saw everything. It was just a matter of whether he felt he needed to get involved or not.

And sometimes Louis felt like such a bag of radioactive dicks because he couldn't bring himself to tell them something that was so vitally important. They wouldn't care that he was gay. They probably already knew because that's just how they were. They didn't care about Harry; not that Louis had told them Harry had actually come out to him, but they knew by their own reasoning and it didn't even phase them.

Louis rolled over on his bed, wondering why the fuck he was being such a Debbie Downer. The big freshie party was tonight and he was going with Harry, Liam, Zayn, and Niall, and they were going to have a fucking fantastic time. There was literally no reason for him to be laying in his room drowning in his melancholic thoughts.

All right. He was going to get up and he was going to see what the fuck Harry was up to and then he was going to have some food – load himself up with carbs – and get ready for tonight.

“Harry,” Louis whined loudly as he literally rolled out of his bed, crashing to the floor with an 'umph' as Harry came strolling into his room. It was moments like these that Louis appreciated the proximity of their bedrooms. Having his mate across the hall was a pretty sweet deal.

Having the Sex on Legs step-brother he wanted to bone across the hall was not so awesome.

Oops. Bad Thought #4353.

“Louis.” Harry stopped just above Louis and stared down at him, expression unimpressed. Louis grinned up at him.

“Any idea what the plan is for tonight?” he asked as he pushed himself to his feet, reminded of the fact that Harry was considerably taller than him.

“We go to frosh, we drink, we find hot people to make out with, we pass out somewhere?” Harry suggested.

He was such a tit sometimes.

“Before, Styles,” Louis clarified dryly, “What's the plan _before_? Your mom making supper? Who's driving? I'm asking about the tiny details.”

Harry shrugged. “I don't know. Shouldn't that stuff be your job since you're older?” he asked, clearly amused.

“ _Shouldn't that stuff be your job_ ,” Louis mocked, glaring at Harry, though there was no real animosity behind the expression and words.

Harry laughed at that. “Yes, mom's making supper,” he said and Louis may have been imagining it but he was pretty sure Harry was looking at him _fondly_.

His stomach was suddenly home to a swarm of butterflies and he barely managed to suppress the dumb grin that wanted to spread over his face.

“Well, good,” Louis replied, voice catching because damn it all Harry indulged him and put up with his sass and smiled at him fondly.

And he was his step-brother.

“Wanna come hang out in my room and waste some time listening to music?” Harry asked and dear god, he looked hopeful. How had they gone from Harry being mad at Louis four days ago to _this_.

Well, that was a dumb question. Louis knew exactly how. After the prank war declaration they had gone back to their normal ways of chatting. And for some unknown reason they were incapable of chatting without flirting. And Louis was just going to explode eventually from how giddy this shit was making him.

“We can do that here,” Louis pointed out.

“Yeah, but I want to pick the music. Besides, you've yet to actually see my room.”

And that was true, Louis realized with a start.

“Your room it is then,” Louis announced and they crossed the hall to Harry's room and Louis didn't know what he had expected but...

This was it.

The room was just so Harry – a little bit odd, organized, _intelligent_ – though Louis didn't really know what quantified a room as being intelligent –, and just painfully homey.

The walls were a calming grey blue and one was covered in what Louis could only describe as _things_. Tickets from shows, lanyards with ids from various events, pictures of friends and family, some art prints, a bottle cap or two, some cards from a deck (a queen of hearts, an ace of spades, and a joker) and a few pages from books were even up there. Louis noted that certain phrases were highlighted and he couldn't help but smile. It wasn't just a wall of things; he was staring at a collection of Harry's _favourite_ things.

The floor was clear and not piled to the heavens with clothes the way Niall's was. There was a tall bookshelf in the corner packed with books. Louis didn't even _have_ a bookshelf. Really, he didn't have books either. If they weren't for school he didn't want them. He didn't even own any comic books. He'd always just read the ones at Boris' or borrowed Zayn's.

“You like to read, huh?” Louis asked as he approached the tall case, seeing a mix of classics, contemporary works, and even a few children's books. He pulled one from the shelf. It was so old that the cover was card board and covered in a thick textured fabric, not a book sleeve. “This the one you read before bed then?” he teased, a little bit cheeky and Harry laughed, taking the book from Louis. He stared down at it with a small crooked smile.

“I kept all my favourites. I feel like I'm five when I read them,” he admitted, and there was that lovely dimple. “Gonna give them to my kids one day.”

Louis really wished he didn't think that was an absolutely adorable sentiment.

“I'm saving my geopets to give to my kids one day,” Louis confessed coolly. The taller boy deposited the book on the shelf, barking out a laugh at Louis' joke.

“They'll be the coolest kids on the playground.”

“Definitely cooler than the little bookworms you plan on siring,” Louis agreed and Harry shook his head, trying to wipe the smile off his face but failing miserably.

“Don't even deny it, your little cool kids will be best friends with my book worms.” Harry tossed Louis a challenging look as he popped his phone onto the ipod dock on his nightstand. “Ready for some tunes?”

“Oh,” Louis exclaimed in a falsetto, clapping his hands together, “I love _tunes_. Can't get enough _tunes_.” God, he was in a cheeky mood. It was lucky Harry seemed to find it so amusing.

Harry started the music with a roll of his eyes, not even bothering to acknowledge Louis. As the lo-fi guitar line came barrelling out of the speakers he seemed to transform into a rockstar right in front of Louis' eyes, popping his knee and pulling out some mad air guitar skills. That last part was meant so sarcastically.

“People try to put us d-down!” Harry wailed along with Roger Daltrey, “Just because we get around.” He grinned at Louis, toothy and broad and Louis grinned too, jumping onto Harry's bed in one swift movement.

Louis wrapped his arms around his torso, swinging his hips like an idiot as they sang together, “Things they do look awful c-c-coooold,” they stutter sang together and Louis knew he looked like an idiot swinging his hips and pretending to shudder but... They were looking like idiots together so he might as well go full idiot.

Harry jumped onto the bed to join Louis in what was an admittedly impressive leap, throwing his arms open wide and cocking an eyebrow at Louis as they both sang, “I hope I die before I get old!”

And then the jumping began. “This is my generation! This is my generation baby,” they practically yelled as they leaped around the bed, bumping into each other, laughing, and trying to outdo the other. Louis got some good height, hitting a killer rock star pose midair, and Harry burst out laughing in earnest, leaving Louis to hold down the vocals.

“Why don't you all fffffade away?” Louis yelled at Harry and he hadn't had this much fun without breaking the rules in forever.

“Yeah, don't try and d-dig what we all s-s-say,” Harry joined, stumbling around on the bed and pretending to be drunk as he mimicked Daltrey's stylistic stuttering. “I'm not trying to cause a b-big sensation,” they sang to each other shaking their heads and getting worked up into another round of jumping.

This was why girls danced around in their underwear, Louis suddenly realized.

“I'm just talking 'bout my g-generation.”

And the jumping started up again, this time becoming a competition to see who could strike the best poses and get the most height. Louis was completely _slaying_ Harry and his lanky limbs and lack of coordination. There were tears in his eyes from laughing so hard and Harry was still jumping even though he could barely breathe from the activity and the laughing and the overwhelming amount of _fun_ they were having. His poses were just ridiculous. Like those stretchy hands that stuck to walls. Just a complete disaster that only fuelled Louis' hysterics.

And then Harry jumped just a bit too high and his head slammed into the ceiling and he crumpled to the bed with the most horrendously girly scream Louis had ever heard and Louis was gone.

That was it. He was done. Goodbye world.

He collapsed onto the bed, _howling_ with laughter with Harry. They couldn't stop, they couldn't breathe, and god Louis' abs were _spasming._

“My head!” Harry exclaimed, not even finishing the thought because he couldn't get it out. Louis could barely hear him anyway.

“What even... was... that... oh my god,” Louis cried, “that scream!” He doubled over, burying his face into Harry's sheets and Harry rolled on top of him and it all just got worse. Feeling Harry laughing only riled him up more.

They rolled around, still just completely gone until Louis was sprawled out on the bed with Harry's head on his stomach.

And every single time they started to calm down, they would look at each other and the giggles would start up again until finally they were so exhausted and pleasantly sore that there were no more fits left in them.

“Wow,” Harry breathed, completely spent, “I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard.”

“Seriously. I swear I can see a dent in your ceiling, mate,” Louis informed Harry as he absentmindedly reached for Harry's head and combed his finger through the other boy's soft curly locks.

“Can you feel the dent in my head?” Harry retorted and they both chuckled and Louis wondered if they were about to go at it all again but they didn't. The chuckles died and Louis found himself feeling thankful for it. He didn't know if he had any more laughter in him.

“Not a dent, but you've got a bit of a bump,” Louis eventually replied, gently running his fingers over the lump at the very top of Harry's head. Harry hissed in pain, clenching his eyes shut and Louis shifted his hand, working over the curls at his temple again. “Sorry,” he said softly.

“Not your fault I thought I could put my head through the roof and walk away from it.” Harry shifted a bit so he could look at Louis with his big green eyes.

“It's a bit my fault though,” Louis said quietly and Harry looked as if he was about to retort but Louis cut him off, “You know since I was clearly making you feel like such shit with my ace rock star moves. You wouldn't have been trying so hard if I wasn't making you feel inferior.”

“Oh sod off,” Harry snorted, rolling onto his stomach and resting his chin on Louis' chest. It probably felt as uncomfortable as it looked, Louis mused.

“We should go see if supper's ready,” Louis said, pulling his hand from Harry's hair to gently push the other boy off of him.

“You're probably right,” Harry agreed as he slowly stood from the bed. “God my abs hurt,” he whined.

“Imagine how I'm feeling,” Louis countered, “I haven't even got a head injury to distract me from the burn.”

And they laughed at that together and Louis tried not to notice the way his heart was pounding in his chest or the way his stomach tightened at the sound of Harry's laugh.

Because frankly, after what just happened Louis was scared that he was going to end up liking Harry just a bit too much.

\- - -

Frosh was insane as per usual. The boys had rolled up to the acreage that was hosting and piled out of Zayn's car, buzzing with energy. It was the same sort of setup every year: a giant field, a barn, a massive house, a bonfire, a trampoline, and a pool. This year the host had also splurged for a DJ, Louis noted as he and the boys made their way into the centre of the crowd accompanied by some old school DMX.

Niall like always was their hookup and had a backpack slung over his shoulder with a couple magnums and a few 26ers of assorted liquors.

“Let's find somewhere to hide this shit,” Niall suggested. It seemed a sound idea so they wandered to the house.

“Let's see if someone's taken the oven,” Zayn proposed as they made their way to the kitchen. There were people everywhere and Louis found himself nodding at a good three quarters of them, which was atypical for him at a party. The drunker he got the less of a shit he'd give about them.

“Oven's clear!” Niall shouted from just ahead of them, already unloading the bottles. He stopped at the final bottle, a 26er of tequila, and held it up with a wicked grin on his face. “Can't see any clean shot glasses so looks like we'll be passing.”

Louis instantly began scanning the kitchen for the mix. He wasn't an inexperienced drinker but fuck if he was going to just take straight sips of tequila. Louis knew Niall too well to let that happen. He was going to make them keep passing until the bottle was finished.

This was how people got alcohol poisoning, Louis mused, as he spotted a collection of pop bottles on the island.

“Anyone want chase?” he asked the group, gesturing to the island.

“Pussy,” Niall goaded.

“Not all of us like getting white girl wasted,” Louis retorted as he headed for the island, Harry at his side. “Think I need a chaperone, Styles?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in Harry's direction.

“Nah, I just wanted root beer and I figured you'd only be grabbing Coke,” he replied as they reached the island.

“You're spot on,” Louis said as he grabbed two bottles of Coke. “Get one for Liam,” he suggested.

They rejoined the group just as Niall was finishing with his first “shot”.

The bottle went around. And around.

Louis began feeling warm and a little giddy.

And around.

And Niall's swigs were getting progressively longer. Had anyone else noticed? Louis glanced around, catching Zayn's eye. They grinned at each other.

And around.

Of course the last swig landed on Louis. At some point Harry's hand had settled on the small of Louis' back, which he didn't mind at all. It was warm and strong and comforting. Harry had very nice hands.

Louis brought the bottle to his lips and threw his head back.

Goodbye rationality.

\- - -

So Harry was drunk enough that Louis was certain he would wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy, Niall was probably dead in the pool, Zayn was in the barn smoking up with Liam of all people, and Louis was having the night of his motherfucking life.

Because White Girl Wasted Harry was hanging off of him and had been all night. Louis had pointedly ignored the looks Zayn had been giving him. And god he was happy Harry was too drunk to notice how much Louis was enjoying this – was glad that Harry couldn't feel how Louis' heart was trying to race out of his chest and into Harry's palm.

“Remember that time we were jumping on my bed together and I smoked my head on the ceiling?” Harry asked out of nowhere as they both wandered along the perimeter of the party, tall grass brushing at their knees.

Louis tilted his head and pursed his lips comically. “Pretty sure that happened this afternoon,” he said. He couldn't take his eyes off Harry. The only light they had was the moonlight and God did Harry look good bathed in moonlight.

Suddenly the songs all made sense.

...

Aaaaand one more time: Harry was his step-brother! Louis' dad had sex with Harry's mom.

Ew.

“I know,” Harry laughed, pulling Louis down with him as he fell to his bum in the damp grass. “Don't you get it though?” Harry asked and no, Louis didn't get it.

“Get what?”

Harry was making no sense.

“We have a _memory_ ,” Harry breathed, “We should try collecting them. Memories, I mean.”

Was this conversation really happening?

“Sure thing, Harry,” Louis agreed, patting Harry on the head condescendingly. This whole conversation felt romantic to Louis and that was not good. Not good for Louis, not good for Harry, not good for Louis' concealed homosexuality, and definitely not good for their strange family situation.

“Louis you aren't taking me seriously,” Harry told him, frowning as he swatted Louis' hand away.

“Not really, no,” Louis agreed, not able to stop his smirk because frowning Harry was adorable.

Harry laughed. “I'll just collect them for myself then,” he said in his slow drawl, nudging Louis' shoulder with his own, “And when you want our memories I will _not_ share them.”

Louis imagined being fifty years old and forgetting about jumping on Harry's bed but knowing _something_ had happened and wanting to remember it but Harry wouldn't tell him.

“Yes you will,” Louis responded because he knew Harry would. He was too much of a softy. He collected _memories_ for fuck's sake.

“Maybe,” Harry mumbled, falling onto his back. He wrapped his hand up in Louis' sleeve and tugged. “Let's look at the stars.”

And who was Louis to deny him? So he laid down next to Harry and stared at the stars while Flashing Lights by Kanye pounded in the background, the bass vibrating through the ground, through Louis. The song was a bit dated but it felt right as it shook through his chest, beating with his heart.

He listened as Harry breathed softly, eyes on the stars, and Louis' chest sort of hurt. This was so intimate – watching the stars with Harry. Harry who had a wall of favourite things, collected memories, listened to classic rock, and laughed with Louis until their sides were sore.

“Second star to the right and straight on till morning,” Harry said softly and Louis realized that Harry was still holding his sleeve as the boy's hand twisted the fabric, pulling it tighter to Louis' skin.

“To the right of what though?” Louis asked just to be contrary and he knew without looking that Harry was completely stumped. The extended silence was proof enough.

“They never specify,” Harry discovered thanks to Louis. “Do you think there's a reason for that?”

Louis shrugged, not caring that Harry couldn't see the action as his gaze stayed fixated on the stars. “Maybe because Neverland's real and we're not meant to find it,” he suggested, hating his words as he said them. “A selfish move for sure. Who wants to get old?”

Harry's head fell to the side, eyes landing on Louis. “I do,” he confessed. And Louis thought to himself that Harry was wise enough at sixteen. He didn't need to get any older.

“Hey, who's out there?” someone yelled from close by and both Louis and Harry lifted their heads, looking in the direction of the noise.

“Nick?” Harry called back, sitting up fully now and grinning widely. He let go of Louis' sleeve and jumped to his feet.

“Harry, fuck!” the guy said and rushed forward, catching Harry in his arms when Harry launched himself at him. “I have seriously spent the whole night looking for you.” He sounded a bit irritated.

Louis watched the exchange, waiting for Harry to remember him and introduce him, trying to ignore the weird heavy feeling dropping over his body as he saw Harry run his hands up and down the boy's sides.

“Sorry, I was with some other friends,” Harry told Nick quietly and they were standing so close to each other.

Louis sat up, his scalp tingling with a foreign cold feeling.

“It's all right, I found you, didn't I?” Nick said and while it was dark, Louis could see the boy's intimate smile from the wash of moonlight that was falling over them. Fuck the moonlight.

Louis got to his feet as Nick leaned in and placed a soft peck on Harry's lips.

Louis did not care.

They were barely apart for a second before Harry reattached himself to Nick's mouth and they were making out like a bunch of teenagers.

Which made sense because they _were_ teenagers but--

Fuck it.

As Louis stumbled his way back to the bonfire – because he was more drunk than he thought – one phrase repeated through his mind, blocking out his pounding heart, heavy limbs, numb cheeks, and burning throat.

“I don't care.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all the readers! Really excited that people are seeming to enjoy it! The song used in this chapter was "My Generation" by The Who. For those of you that are interested, during the entrance to the party scene the DMX song I hear playing is "Party Up (Up in Here)". 
> 
> Anyways, love hearing from you guys and getting your thoughts on everything! Next chapter is written and will hopefully be up in a few days again! Once again, thank you for reading!! xo


	4. Chapter 4

 

Chapter 4

Louis sat staring at the bonfire, watching the way the flames licked at the inky black sky. He barely noticed that there was a party going around him. A few people stopped to talk to him – clapped a hand on his back and offered him a beer – but he hardly engaged them. Just took the drink and nodded his head absently, didn't turn his gaze from the flames.

He felt like his mind should be racing but it was oddly blank. There were too many sensations stumbling and racing over his body, vying for attention. It was weird how uncomfortably painful the whole thing was. His breathing was shallow and hard, like he had just run a marathon. His heart hammered in his chest and ears and pounded through his veins like a war drum. His cheeks burned and his whole body felt like it suddenly weighed a thousand pounds more. His hands didn't even feel like his own as they tightly gripped the beer he'd been offered. It felt like he was working a stranger's body as he brought the beer to his lips. God his lips. They tingled with numbness.

There was so much going on it was all he could do to process it. He didn't want to think anyway.

And he was so fucking drunk.

He was still breathing like he'd just run a marathon. Gasping and gulping for air. He was surprised no one was noticing.

Another sip of the beer.

Another assessment of his body.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

A heavy weight that wasn't his devastated heart settled on his shoulders and a body snuggled up to his.

“All right?” a familiar voice asked. Louis didn't bother answering.

“I thought you were belly up in the pool,” he said instead and his voice didn't sound like his own, his lips didn't feel like his own. It felt like he was inside someone else's body and watching passively as they went through the motions, not bothering to ask for his input.

Niall laughed. “Nah, you're not getting rid of me that easily,” he assured Louis and his arm tightened around Louis, pulling him into his chest.

“You want me to ask?” Niall said as he took Louis' beer from his hand, stealing a sip and then giving it back.

“I'd rather you didn't.”

The conversations Louis had with Niall were always so honest. No bullshit. No leading him on. No making him think things that weren't true and then fucking tossing him aside like he hadn-

Right.

“Missy took her top off and danced around on the kitchen table for awhile,” Niall told him. “It was a really weird moment for me because there were bare boobs right there and all the guys were cheering and I should have but cheering too but I mostly just wanted to run up there and cover her with my sweater. Nothing worse than watching a person do something you know they'll regret, you know?”

Louis nodded, wondering if Niall would have said the same thing about Louis' current situation had he known Louis was gay.

“Nothing worse than watching a person do something you know they'll regret, hey Zayn? Like Louis getting a bit of a crush on Harry.”

“So I set off a firework in the kitchen,” Niall continued and Louis wished he was in his body properly and was in the mood to really understand and appreciate what Niall was saying. He also would have asked where on earth Niall had even gotten a firework.

“Man, you should have seen the commotion it made. That was some Louis Tomlinson quality stuff right there.” Niall kept talking, filling the silence and maybe even filling up Louis a bit.

He hadn't even realized he was empty.

“Anyway, James – this is his family's acreage apparently – came in just totally frothing at the mouth mad and I got some stupid freshie to take the blame. Told him that since I was a senior he had to do it seeing as it's frosh and all.”

Louis wasn't looking at Niall but he could hear the grin on Niall's face. He was a bit of a disaster – wild and manic and all over the place – but he knew exactly what he was doing every step of the way.

“Figure since you lot dropped the ball and didn't initiate any freshies I might as well go big. Might have gone a bit overboard.” A pause. “So Zayn and Liam got high together or did you know that?”

Louis nodded. The sensations were lifting some and he thought he maybe felt like he was halfway a part of his body again.

“Didn't figure them for mates, if I'm being honest. Didn't peg Liam as the impulse drugs type either though. I'm losing my touch,” he said right before stealing another swig of Louis' beer.

“Hey listen, I know you're a bit bummed right now and you don't wanna talk about it, but do you mind if we go scour the house for somewhere to crash because it's getting bloody cold out here and I'd rather not freeze my bollocks off while you wallow in your misery.”

\- - -

The ride home the next morning could not have been more awkward for Louis. He and Niall had woken up, gathered up the remainder of their alcohol in Niall's backpack, and then made their way to the car. When they got there Liam was seated in the front seat with Zayn and Harry was in the back.

On the bucket seat.

Was it even possible to feel so many shitty things in one single moment?

Louis tried not to react and he wondered if it worked. People always told him he was hard to read and that it made him appear unapproachable. But with Zayn and Niall he was beyond transparent. And both of them were there. And Niall knew that something had happened last night.

This was going to be the longest thirty minutes of Louis' life.

With a deep breath and an internal pep talk - “You can do the shit out of this, Louis Tomlinson!” –, Louis slid his bum into the seat behind Zayn.

“Louis, hey,” Harry greeted with a tired grin. His hair was a sight and his eyes were hooded, dark bags underneath them. “Lost you last night. Sorry about that.” And of course he was fine and had no idea that Louis felt like he'd been run over by a truck about fifty times last night.

Louis wondered if his smile looked as tight as it felt, close lipped and not reaching his eyes. “It's nothing, mate. Made a few new friends and ended up crashing with Niall.”

Zayn turned around to look at him with sharp eyes.

How the fuck did they always just know?

Then Zayn looked at Niall, who reacted to the look with a quick shake of his head.

They both looked at Louis with concern.

“You both can sod right off,” Louis grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking into his seat. He didn't even care that Harry and Liam were both absolutely dumbfounded.

“Uh, sorry?” Liam shifted, giving Louis a confused look.

“Not you,” Louis replied heavily, dragging his hand over his face, trying to wipe away his tired and battered feelings for Harry. “Just-- nevermind. Can we head out now?”

“Don't see why not,” Zayn said and Louis thanked him then pressed his forehead against the cold glass of the window.

They were all tired and hungover so the conversation throughout the ride was rather lacking. Even Niall seemed to not have it in him to hold the group up as he passed out within the first five minutes. Louis couldn't say he was all that disappointed.

It was when they were about ten minutes out that Louis felt a warm heavy weight on his shoulder. Up until this moment Louis and Harry had been holding out as the two passengers to not pass out but it looked like Harry had given in as he had just passed out on him; Louis' skin burned where they were connected, a pleasant humming coursing through his bloodstream.

He couldn't handle it.

“Harry,” Louis said softly, shaking his shoulder and rocking Harry's head until the other boy opened his eyes. He didn't lift his head, just looked up at Louis with a sleepy expression. “M'not a pillow, Styles,” Louis mumbled, hating how adorable Harry looked at that moment.

He hadn't looked so adorable with his tongue shoved down Nick's throat.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, eyes lighting up beneath the tired fog, “Because you do a remarkable job as a stand in.”

“I'm sure,” Louis replied, perhaps a bit too sharply, “It's not my fault you didn't sleep.”

“I did sleep,” Harry seemed to have missed Louis' tone because he was acting as if they were still in a friendly banter. Louis didn't feel friendly at all. Just stupid.

“So that's what they're calling it now?” Louis asked sceptically, turning his gaze from Harry to stare forward. He caught a glimpse of Zayn in the rear view and steeled his jaw with a tight shake of his head. Mostly he was just happy Niall was still asleep because where Zayn would keep his mouth shut, Niall would jump in like a dirty old sock.

Harry moved off of Louis and the space between them felt cold on his skin.

“Calling what?” Harry asked; he must have caught on to Louis' antagonistic tone because he wasn't joking anymore.

“Really?” Louis countered incredulously, turning away from Harry to look out the window. He didn't want to see the expression on Harry's face.

“Really, Lou.” He was quick to reply and quick to put a hard hand on Louis' shoulder. “What did I do that you're in such a piss poor mood?” he demanded, voice rising.

“I don't know Harry, why don't you run through the night in your mind and figure out what you did.”

God, he sounded like a girl. Louis glanced at Harry, his lip curled up in a sneer. Behind Harry, Niall was starting to stir.

“And keep your voice down,” Louis hissed, “People are trying to sleep.”

Harry scoffed, removing his hand from Louis' shoulder. His eyes were dark and stormy like Louis had never seen.

“Is this about Nick?” he asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and Louis' heart rate quickened at the name – at the stupid memory.

He didn't know why he even cared. It wasn't as if he was an out and proud and available gay anyway.

It wasn't as if Harry was even an option.

“Why would it be about Nick? I mean, you weren't appallingly rude and you didn't just start making out with him while I was right there.”

Harry's eyes widened.

Louis looked back out the window, trying not to let his gaze get caught on his reflection because he didn't think he'd like whatever it was he would see.

“I'm sorry that it disgusts you that I'm gay,” Harry practically growled and hold it right there! Louis' head snapped to Harry and he had no idea what his expression looked like but god was Louis angry.

“This has nothing to do with you being gay!” Louis barked just absolutely beyond the point of frustration. “This has to do wi--”

“Louis I know you're like borderline homophobic!” Harry nearly shouted and maybe it was Louis' imagination but Harry's eyes looked oddly bright, oddly wet around the edges. “You make it clear enough every time the topic comes up but guess what? I'm gonna continue to be gay whether you like it or not and we're going to continue to live under the same roof so you're just going to have to get over it and suck it the hell up? Okay?”

Louis' mouth hung open as he gaped at Harry.

What the actual fuck?

“Are you serious?” Zayn cut in from the front seat, stealing the words from Louis' mouth.

Here Louis was acting like a jealous little bitch because Harry made out with another boy in front of him and Harry was convinced Louis was being a homophobic prick. This was just a complete and total clusterfuck.

“Yes, I am, Zayn,” Harry snapped then looked around and seemed to notice the entire car had awoken. “If you could all keep your mouths shut-” Niall was mid-breath but stopped when Harry shot him a dirty look, “-Louis and I are going to continue our conversation.”

And then, because Niall was Niall and he didn't know when to shut up and he didn't always think before he spoke he said, “Louis is just as bent as you are, mate.”

Louis was done.

“Niall!” Zayn hissed just as Harry said, “As if, Niall. Stop trying to defend his shitty behaviour.”

“He's not being shitty! He's just a bit into you!” Niall explained in a rush.

“Niall!” Zayn shouted at Niall this time. He sounded furious.

“What are you...” Harry was speaking but Louis decided he didn't want to hear another word, so he tuned him out.

Beet red and mortified and so angry he couldn't even breathe, Louis unclicked his seat belt and reached for the door handle. Everyone was too busy staring at Niall to notice. They were in the city now and Zayn wasn't going very fast and Louis needed out of the car now.

He opened the door and was stumbling onto the road before anyone had a chance to realize what was going on. It took a moment for him to catch his footing but the minute he did he was sprinting the hell out of there and fuck was he happy he had played football for all those years because he was fast – fast enough that none of them had a hope of catching him.

As he ran, Louis realized he couldn't go home. So he went to the only other place he had always felt safe.

\- - -

With burning lungs and cheeks, Louis pushed through the old chipped door of Borislav's, the bell above announcing his entrance.

“Go away. I don't want y--” Boris stopped short when he turned the corner from the back room and saw Louis.

Louis... who had last night's outfit still on, flushed cheeks, bedhead, and smelled like a bar floor.

“What is wrong?” Boris asked, tone almost dangerous as he rushed to Louis, wrapping an arm around his slender frame and leading him over to the counter. Louis sagged into Boris' side, exhausted.

“Can I just get a milkshake?” he asked quietly as his phone began buzzing in his butt pocket for what must have been the fifteenth time since he had James Bonded it out of the car.

“I give you extra everything in it,” Boris promised in his thick accent with a wink and hurried around to the ice cream machine to get a start on it. “You want me to do any rustling up and you tell me,” he added, voice going darker.

Louis just laughed, exhausted. “No rustling up necessary,” he said, folding his arms on the counter and laying his head down. He was still catching his breath. It had been at least a twenty minute run but it had cleared his mind. Louis hoped that would be the last time he ran that hard on a hangover. His head was pounding.

His phone started buzzing again.

“You have any paracetamol?” Louis asked, the sound muffled by his arms.

“Give me moment,” Boris replied as he continued his work on Louis' milkshake.

Louis wondered if Niall and Zayn had dropped Harry and Liam off yet. Or if they were all at Harry's house waiting for Louis to get there so they could bombard him with questions. He couldn't believe Harry had just up and accused him of being a homophobe in front of everyone. And here he had been thinking his feelings were so obvious and that he was doing just the most shit job of hiding them.

Niall's interjection came to mind and Louis felt his heart physically flinch. Niall had caught on easily enough. Louis couldn't believe Niall had actually opened his mouth and said all that. In front of Harry no less.

In front of everyone.

“My life is ruined,” Louis moaned into his arms, dejected as it occurred to him that he would have to go home and face Harry at some point. As much as he loved Borislav's he couldn't just camp out on the counter for the rest of the year.

“Why?” Boris demanded as he placed Louis' milkshake in front of him along with two paracetamol. “What happen that you're all Mr. Saddypants?”

Despite his raging headache and overwhelming embarrassment and burning anger, Louis let out a strong laugh at that one. He didn't even know how to answer or explain what had happened really. Everything had just spiralled out of control and exploded in Louis' face.

It had started simple enough. All he'd wanted was for Harry to not sleep on his shoulder.

“Everything happened,” Louis said cryptically then popped the pills into his mouth and downed them with the milkshake. “Thank you.”

Just then the bell above the door chimed and Louis tensed.

“He's here,” he heard Zayn's voice call out the door. Louis didn't turn around. He couldn't. “Lou,” Zayn said and then his footsteps were approaching.

The bell chimed again.

“You need leave,” Boris growled from his spot before Louis.

Louis felt a flush of panic rise up to his cheeks from his neck. He wasn't ready to deal with this.

“Sorry Boris,” Zayn said, “Not gonna happen.” He sat down beside Louis and knocked their shoulders together.

“Zayn, you have seconds.” Boris looked like the world's most terrifying bouncer as he loomed over them, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “You go and take skinny friend with you.”

Skinny friend? Louis looked over his shoulder and there was Harry. Hovering by the door and appearing very uncomfortable. Louis felt his pulse quicken and his embarrassment rise. Niall had not only outed Louis to Harry but he'd told Harry about Louis' stupid crush. The crush Louis had been doing an admittedly less than stellar job of ignoring but still. Harry offered Louis a weak wave, his eyes darting over to Boris as if he were afraid the large Russian man would snap his neck for the action, and Louis couldn't help the surge of fondness that swept over him.

“It's all right, Boris,” Louis finally said, still watching Harry, who looked very much like a man being held before a firing squad. “Can you give us a minute?”

“I do rustling up if things go bad.” It was a threat but it was also an agreement so Louis just nodded his head, eyes still on Harry, and waited until he heard the back door close before speaking.

“Hear that Styles? Have to keep your voice down for real this time or you'll have the Bolsheviks on your ass.” Louis wasn't sure if he was being funny or an asshole or just plain old sarcastic for the hell of it but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He decided he was being funny and offered Harry a shaky smile.

It was the invitation Harry had apparently been waiting for as he made his way towards Zayn and Louis, plopping down in the seat on Louis' other side.

“So where's Niall then?” Louis asked, trying to keep his anger from his tone.

“Waiting outside with the car,” Zayn said quietly. He was picking at his wrap bracelet, eyes on his hands as he avoided looking at Louis. “He feels like a proper twat.”

“Good,” Louis spit, not caring how catty he sounded.

Harry shifted beside Louis, looking at him with a shy almost apprehensive expression. “He was only trying to help,” he defended, voice coming out slower than usual.

“Good lot of help he was seeing as I'm not gay,” Louis said dully and the words hurt him as they came out and so did Harry's face - the way it crumpled as he recoiled from Louis. But Louis didn't take them back. He hadn't been ready to come out half an hour ago and nothing had happened to change that.

Fuck Niall and his big mouth and his assumptions. Now when he finally was ready this was all anyone was going to be able to remember – how Niall had “called it”.

Louis let out a huge huff of air and buried his head in his hands as he said, “I'm not a fucking homophobe either, Styles.” How could talking be so exhausting?

Harry remained silent, as did Zayn, and Louis supposed they expected him to elaborate.

So he did.

“It was just right fucking rude of you to get up and start shoving your tongue down some guy's throat without even introducing us or excusing yourself or hell even asking me to piss off. You just acted like I hadn't been there in the first place.”

And god did he ever sound like a jealous girlfriend. He supposed Harry was thinking the same thing because he was staring at Louis dumbly and not saying a word.

Finally Zayn prompted, “Anything to say to that, Harry?” and he sounded irritated. He probably thought this whole ordeal was just the stupidest thing ever – which it was –, and a total waste of his time – which it was. Louis knew Zayn was only putting up with this all because of his loyalty to Louis.

“It was a party and we were drunk, Lou,” Harry justified. “I'm sorry that I was rude but if your old snog buddy had come around I bet you'd have done the same thing.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Styles, you obviously don't know me as well as you think,” he responded and then pushed himself off of the bar stool, milkshake in hand as he headed for the door. “I'm done with this shit.”

Not a second after Louis was out the door and in the blazing sun, he bumped into Niall and god he looked a right wreck, sweating – when had it gotten so warm out – and squinting with red frantic eyes against the bright sun. His bottom lip was puffy and scabbing but Niall was still pulling on it with his teeth. Louis glowered up at him.

“Lou,” Niall said and he sounded completely torn.

“Fuck you,” Louis hissed, shoving past Niall and towards Zayn's car. He didn't want to say anything else. He wanted to leave it at that and let Niall stew in his misery and work himself up over how he'd done the most dickish thing a person could do. He wanted to let Niall just wish Louis would tell him off. Wanted him to feel like such shit the way Louis did.

Louis tried to say nothing but the adrenaline was thick in his veins and he didn't want to run. He wanted to fight. Fuck it all, he couldn't hold his tongue. “Like in what stupid universe did you think that was all right?” he demanded as he spun around, nearly bumping into Niall again.

“I was just trying to hel--”

“Help how? By outing me when I hadn't even told you?” Louis shoved his finger into Niall's chest, pushing the taller boy back. “Pretend I am gay, Niall. Why the fuck would I want Harry to know before you? I hardly know him. You and Zayn are my best mates. Why would I want to be outed to some virtual stranger when I'm not even ready to tell my best mates, huh? How does that make any sense?” Louis was right in Niall's apologetic distressed little face and he didn't even care that he'd shot out a spittle, which landed directly on Niall's stupid nose.

“I thought you hadn't told us because you knew we knew,” Niall said, no pleaded, quietly just as Harry and Zayn came out the door.

Louis swallowed thickly, clenching his eyes shut because this was a disaster. Then he said, so quietly only Niall could hear, “Well, you don't know. Not until I'm ready for you to know. It might not be a big deal to you, Niall. But it is to me. I'm the one that'll get beat up in the change room and get shitty messages on facebook and people hashtagging “homo4life” and other crap things all over my instagram. Not you. Okay?”

Zayn and Harry kept their distance and that was probably the only part of this day that had gone right.

Niall didn't say anything. Just stared at Louis with such remorse that Louis almost wanted to forgive him because even now, when he was just beyond furious, he didn't want to see Niall hurt.

“Okay?” Louis reiterated, his face softening a bit because Niall was just this big lumbering sack of good intentions even if he had just turned Louis' already crap day into total shit.

“Yeah. I'm sorry.” Niall's voice was the softest Louis had ever heard it and he thought about how Niall had rambled on and on to himself last night by the bonfire entirely for Louis' benefit, how Niall had cried into Louis' shoulder the first time he'd been dumped by a girl, and how he'd rented Louis a fucking jumping jamboree two days after Mark and Johannah had split up. He was such a softie at heart and his world practically revolved around Louis and Zayn the same way Louis' world revolved around them.

“I know,” Louis admitted. “Doesn't mean I'm still not ready to rip your head off but... I know you're sorry and I'll get over it, all right?”

Niall nodded, eyes wet at the corners, and relief washed over his face as he let out a massive breath of air. “I love you, mate,” he confessed, not for the first time, and Louis couldn't stop his smile.

“Brothers for life,” he agreed then called to Zayn and Harry. “Let's get out of here.”

\- - -

That evening Harry surprised Louis by coming into his room at their usual rendezvous time. He didn't say anything – didn't acknowledge that they hadn't spoken since they'd both gotten home that afternoon – just collapsed on Louis' bed at his side and tucked his hands under his head. Louis didn't even bother hiding it as he stared at Harry, watched Harry's eyes take in the now finished mural on his wall. He saw the light flicker on as Harry recognized The Russian Beast as Boris' superhero counterpart – Harry's eyes lit up and his mouth opened in a tiny oh and Louis wanted to lean over and kiss him.

He didn't of course. He kept the thought to himself and just smiled softly. He was grateful that Harry was choosing to ignore Louis' staring because Louis didn't want to stop. He wanted to just lie there on his bed with Harry at his side and appreciate all the stupid little things about Harry – some that he had noticed before and some that he hadn't. His eyes snagged on the spot on Harry's cheeks where his dimples rested when he smiled. They weren't there now but Louis thought he could make out the tiniest crease where they were meant to be. His inspection travelled to Harry's lips, which had settled into a relaxed line. They were sinfully pink and Louis knew it was stupid as he thought it, but they looked like coral fresh from the ocean. His eyes were a beautiful colour but that wasn't what caught Louis' attention, it was the absolute peace in them. It was the thoughtfulness that rested just behind the shock of moss green. The thoughtfulness that seemed to go overlooked until he spoke, slow and deliberate, his accent crisp and clean on his tongue. Then there was his hair with it's loose curls that were always swept over his forehead and off to the side, wild and tamed. Doing what they were supposed to but always with a compromise.

Louis wondered if he tried hard enough if he would be able to see Harry's heart beating just beneath the skin under his jaw, wondered if he'd see the skin thrumming with life. It was so sentimental but Louis couldn't help himself. Besides, thinking was all right. Thoughts stayed in his mind and they were there just for him. Anyway, it wasn't as if he and Harry were speaking.

As if he had been reading Louis' mind, Harry chose that exact moment to finally break the silence.

“I'm sorry, you know,” he told Louis, and there it was that slow deliberate speech that Louis was starting to get a bit giddy over. His eyes shifted to Louis and he squinted his one eye a bit. Louis wasn't sure what emotion the action was meant to convey. “I'm sorry for making you feel insignificant and like... forgotten,” Harry continued, “You are important to me.”

Sometimes he sounded so much older than he really was, Louis thought as a blush crept up his cheeks. He wanted to say something funny because Harry was being incredibly heavy but he knew he shouldn't so he just nodded slowly.

“I mean, I know we've barely met, right? But there's something about you, Lou.” Harry paused and it seemed as if he was considering what that something was exactly.

Louis' breath caught in his throat and he tried not to let the sentimentality of it all wash over him too much because he was already overwhelmed by Harry's beauty. He didn't need to spend another ten minutes making a list of all the little things he loved about Harry's personality too.

“You're family,” Harry finally said with a tiny assured nod of his head.

“What?” Louis asked, eyebrows knotting in confusion, not really understanding why Harry was saying that as if it was a revelation.

“You're family,” Harry repeated and he tilted his head, cheek resting on his arm as he stared at Louis intensely. “You feel like you really are my family, like... you fit with me. Not because my mom married your dad, but because of who you are and how you are.” And there it was again, that tone like Harry was discovering something for himself and just bringing Louis along for the ride. Louis found he didn't quite mind.

There was nothing for Louis to say to that so he remained silent and it seemed that was all right, seemed Harry hadn't been looking for a response. The silence began weighing down on them again as neither said anything.

Then Harry broke it. “You don't mind if I just lay here awhile, do you? I like being around you,” he divulged and Louis really didn't trust his voice so he just nodded.

He wondered if Harry was thinking about what Niall had said. “He's just a bit into you.” Wondered if Harry was seeing all the signs and if he knew that Louis had lied in the shop. “Louis is just as bent as you are, mate.”

He knew he should stop staring – knew he was giving himself away – but Louis couldn't stop.

When he fell asleep some time later Harry was still lying there, staring at Louis' wall with a pensive expression.

The last thought Louis had before he drifted off was if Harry was going to collect this memory too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone that's curious I wrote the first half of this chapter while listening to Wrapped in Piano Strings by Radical Face and the second half while listening to Ok, It's Alright With Me by Eric Hutchinson. Both are just splendid songs in my opinion.
> 
> And once again I'd like to extend a thank you to everyone that's reading, leaving kudos, subscribing, and bookmarking! A special thanks to those of you that have taken the time to leave me comments! I really do appreciate it! I'm about halfway through the next chapter and there's a healthy dose of sexual tension in the first scene! I'll try to (as per usual) have it up within the next couple of days! xo


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“Morning, Sunshine,” Harry greeted Louis as he skipped into the kitchen, tossing his phone onto the counter and far too jolly for ten am on a Sunday. Louis lifted his head from where it rested over his crossed arms on the island.

“I genuinely hate how happy you are in the mornings,” Louis grumbled with a dark stare in Harry's direction. The taller boy didn't seem to notice as he threw open the fridge door, pulling out a carton of eggs and a jug of orange juice. After spinning and depositing the contents on the island, Harry draped himself over the dark granite, reaching out to ruffle Louis' hair affectionately.

“But I'm making breakfast,” Harry argued as Louis swatted his hand away before progressing to pushing Harry back and off the island. While Harry was smelling freshly showered and looking crisp in a black v neck and sinfully tight jeans, Louis was still sporting last night's stench and the heart boxers and old football hoodie he'd worn to bed.

“Would you like a medal then?” Louis asked as he abandoned his dream of catching a few extra minutes of snooze time.

“Not particularly,” Harry said with a shrug then continued, “What's even got you up so early on a weekend?”

That was cute - that he knew Louis' routine well enough to know that Louis never woke up early on a weekend if he didn't have to. He supposed they were heading into the first week of October and had been living under the same roof for just a little over a month now. He also supposed that he was now in possession of a handful of little details about Harry as well.

“Mark and I are doing some things today,” Louis answered around a yawn, watching as Harry busied himself with food preparation, large hands placing the skillet on the stove and pouring a dabble of oil into it. It was too early for naughty thoughts, Louis mused as he observed Harry skillfully cracking a series of eggs over the pan.

Still, Louis was a sucker for domestic types and this was his most basic fantasy – Well, the total package fantasy included nudity in an apron but life and fiction very rarely intersected this closely so Louis wasn't about to lose sleep over the details.

“Well, that's rather vague,” Harry commented as he threw a lid on the frying pan, turning to survey Louis with raised eyebrows. His arms crossed over the expanse of his chest and Louis tried not to stare at Harry's biceps, which were unfairly accentuated by the pose.

“Wasn't aware you wanted all the dirty details,” Louis shot back as he pulled his elbows off the island to sit up fully. He stretched languorously and god did it feel good. Maybe it was just Louis but Harry appeared to be staring at Louis' partially exposed stomach a bit too hard.

Harry smirked and it definitely wasn't just Louis' imagination. “Well I definitely want the details now that you've told me they're dirty,” he flirted without the slightest hint of shame.

Clearly Harry had forgotten they were talking about Mark and Louis' father/son bonding day.

“You realize we're talking about Mark right now, right?” Louis probed, pursing his lips against the cheeky grin that wanted to surface and watching Harry expectantly. He tried not to look too pleased when Harry's cheeks flushed a dusty pink.

Harry cleared his throat. “Mostly just wanted the dirty details on you,” he mumbled, turning to open a cupboard and grab two glasses, keeping his hands busy. Louis had come to learn that this was a little detail about Harry. When Harry was nervous or embarrassed he busied himself. Like he was doing right now, Louis observed as Harry flipped the cap off the orange juice and began filling their cups.

“Not much better, is it?” Louis asked in a lazy tone as he leaned back, lounging on the bar stool and watching Harry with a predatory glint in his eye. It wasn't often that he had a chance like this to really make Harry squirm.

“A bit better,” Harry corrected Louis, scrunching his nose adorably and taking a large gulp of his juice as if he couldn't believe himself. It absolutely was not Louis' imagination that Harry's gaze dropped to Louis' lips.

Louis swallowed thickly, his witty retort dying on his tongue as his breath caught in his chest and stayed there. The kitchen was suddenly an oven. An oven filled with hormones and sexual tension and a big looping band of CAUTION tape wrapped around Harry that was telling Louis to take a step back because this was a decidedly bad idea. A very bad idea.

Louis felt himself hardening as Harry replaced his glass on the counter that stood between them, bumping his hips against it as he leaned in Louis' direction. Why was Harry wearing such tight jeans and why was he so outrageously gorgeous?

Louis wanted to quit life when Harry's tongue darted out to wet his lips – wanted to sob and pull himself off when Harry leaned his palms on the counter, getting dangerously close to Louis with his ruffled curls, blown pupils, and porn star pink lips.

“Harry,” Louis said, voice coarse and dry in his throat. He didn't know how he wanted to finish that phrase. He didn't know a lot of things, like why the air was starting to smelled like burning.

“Are you sure you're--” Harry began in a low tone but cut himself short, eyes widening to comical proportions. “Shit the eggs!” he exclaimed and rushed to the stove, shifting the skillet to another burner and lifting the lid off of it with a disgruntled expression.

Louis tried not to laugh at the cloud of black smoke that rose and licked at Harry's cheeks. He took the moment of distraction as an opportunity, crossing his legs to hide his semi, which was more than apparent under the thin fabric of his boxers.

“Well done, Styles,” he congratulated, voice still sticking in his throat and skin still buzzing with arousal.

“Not really,” Harry groaned, eyes snagging on the microwave clock. “My shift at the bakery starts in half an hour.”

And oh right. Harry worked at the bakery today.

After Harry had made a show, bemoaning his empty stomach and gathering his wallet and keys and was out of the house, Louis noticed that he had left his phone on the counter.

Never one to waste an opportunity, Louis idly snagged the device and slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie just as Mark entered the kitchen, looking more than a bit harried.

“Sorry, bud,” he said in a rush, not even noticing that Louis wasn't even ready yet, “Had to deal with a minor issue with a client. All resolved now. You ready to go get that picture printed and framed?” he asked and it was at that moment he noticed the state that Louis was in. “Never mind, you aren't,” he finished with a dry tone as he took in Louis' rumpled hair and pajamas.

“I'll just go get on that,” Louis said and hopped off the bar stool. He couldn't wait to get alone so he could check Harry's phone.

\- - -

They were pulling into the photo centre and Louis was buzzing in a way he hadn't in ages. He had found the perfect prank and the best part was that it wouldn't just be on Harry. While Louis had been blow drying his hair he had decided to snoop through Harry's phone – nothing too invasive just a quick peek through his photos.

Louis had never pegged Harry for the selfie type, he reflected as Mark spoke with the squat balding man working the desk, explaining what it was they wanted. Last week Louis and Mark had sat down with an assortment of photo albums and had picked out a few pictures to put on the wall. It had been dreadfully sentimental for Louis, who had a hard time taking much of anything seriously, but he had managed. Most of the photos were ridiculous anyway - pictures of him wearing beer cases on his head, flashing a double thumbs up and an overdone grin while his sisters smiled prettily beside him, posing with Mark on the beach the time he'd covered the man with sand from head to toe... Those sorts of photos.

Mark slid the originals across the desk to the man, pointing out the dimensions he wanted for each photo. He seemed distracted enough at the moment. This would possibly be the only chance Louis was going to get to put his plan into action. His eyes darted to the photo unit on the far wall, the one he could hook up to a phone in order to quickly print off photos.

“I'm just gonna slip off for a sec,” Louis interjected quietly when Mark was between sentences. He barely received a nod of acknowledgement. That was a good sign.

\- - -

“This might be some of the most inspired work you've ever done,” Zayn told Louis the next day during their lunch break at school. He, Louis, and Niall had taken to the front lawn of the school, taking advantage of the uncharacteristically warm fall day. Winter was just around the corner and then they'd be stuck sitting in the cafeteria until the cold dreary weather finally broke for spring.

They were all stretched out, lounging in the grass in a loose circle and staring at the photo Louis had proudly dropped into the centre of their setup.

“He just left his phone lying around then?” Niall asked brightly as he reached out to pick the photo up, getting a closer look and assessing the more minute details. He threw his head back, cackling. “I can't believe he even took this picture!”

“Well, he did,” Louis replied casually, “And I found it. Quite unfortunate for him.”

Zayn extended his hand to Niall and snapped his fingers. “Toss it over, I want a closer look too,” he said, snatching the photo the minute Niall held it out for him. “Do you think he'll notice it right off?”

“I couldn't even tell you,” Louis said with a shrug. “I'm gonna try to start off subtle though. See how far I can take it.”

“Can't be having Niall over for a while then,” Zayn said, smirking sideways at Niall as he handed the picture back to Louis.

“Hey!” Niall protested, “I can hold a straight face if I need to!”

“Prove it then,” Louis dared him then lifted his eyes to the boy approaching their circle, “Liam, perfect timing, mate!” He tucked the photo into his pocket and greeted Liam with a pleasant smile as he dropped down into the empty space beside Zayn.

“Is it?” Liam asked brightly, “What for?” His eyes danced around the circle expectantly, pausing on Zayn.

“An invite,” Zayn replied smoothly, “I'm having the guys over tonight. Thought you and Harry might want to join.”

Louis raised an eyebrow at Zayn but Zayn ignored him in favour of intently waiting for Liam's response.

“Yeah, why not? Sounds like a good time,” Liam said after a moment, eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled at Zayn.

Louis and Niall didn't miss the way Zayn blushed and they didn't bother concealing it when they shared a meaningful look. Then there was the awkward silence. Zayn, not being an idiot, had noticed the shared moment between Louis and Niall and was doing a fine job of pretending he wasn't pouting while pouting. Liam didn't know them well enough to have even caught the look.

And Niall and Louis just didn't have a lot to say apparently.

Eventually Louis gave in, standing up and pulling his phone from his pocket as he broke the silence. “As much as I'd love to continue our fascinating discourse, I've got to run. I'll see you losers around,” he told them. “I've got football practice tonight so don't bother waiting for m-- What?” Louis' focus shifted mid-sentence as he noticed Liam's face twist into a knot of confusion.

“Louis,” Liam said slowly and his eyes were fixated on the ground at Louis' feet, “Why have you got a selfie of Harry posed in his briefs?”

The reaction was instantaneous. Niall and Zayn erupted into a fit of laughter while Louis quickly stooped to retrieve the picture that had fallen from his pocket.

“Liam,” Louis replied over the sound of his best friends laughing, “You'll do good to not think about this or mention it to Harry. It will all make sense in time.”

And he didn't give Liam a chance to reply, just turned on his heel and headed for the school not caring that he was walking by himself and still grinning like an idiot.

\- - -

“Hey Lou!”

Louis pulled a towel from his gym locker and turned around, looking to see who had called his name. He was soaked to the bone in his own sweat from football practice and aching in a way that felt like success. His eyes landed on Matt, the team's captain, who was approaching Louis. In nothing but his briefs. His black briefs that sat far too low on his hips and clung to him in a way that left nothing to the imagination.

“Someone said you're living with Styles now,” Matt commented as he sagged against the row of lockers, arms crossed over his exposed chest. The fluorescent light above them flickered, making the boys the stars of their own little light show.

Louis swallowed and tried not to stare too intently but it was hard because Matt was gorgeous with his bronze skin and six pack and beads of sweat trickling down his body. Louis coughed and brought his eyes back to Matt's face, pretending it was the easiest thing in the world to do.

“Yeah, he's my step-brother,” Louis said offhandedly as he wiped his face with the towel he had in hand. “Surprised you know who he is; I had no idea he existed until I moved in with Mark and his mom.” It was disgusting the way Louis' towel was already starting to soak through with his sweat; he itched to head for the shower and clean himself off – he was absolutely filthy.

“So you don't know you're living with a fag then, huh?” Matt asked offhandedly as he waved goodbye to a few guys that were heading out.

Louis felt the colour drain from his face and suddenly he had Matt's full attention.

“Oh shit, you actually didn't know,” Matt said, a little shocked, mistaking Louis' panic for disgust. “Sorry, man. I just heard a few days ago from my sister. Guess he jumped out of the closet over the summer and now he's this proud homosexual.” Louis couldn't help but focus on the way Matt was practically spitting the phrase at Louis, words shooting through the dingy flickering lights and sticking to him.

“Proud homosexual?” he asked quietly and it felt like his heart was racing through his throat and punching bumps into the question as it left his tongue.

“Yeah. You know, like he gets all over dudes at parties and is doing a bunch of gay rights shit for assignments apparently. What a fucking joke, hey?” Matt said with a laugh. “Like if I had to listen to that shit in class I'd hang him from the fucking flagpole, see how proud he is then.”

Matt really laughed at that one. He was quite proud of himself.

Louis was quite ready to puke thank you very much.

“Shit,” was all he could say, knuckles white around his towel. Suddenly Louis wanted nothing more than to get the fuck away from Matt and his laughing and his sweat streaked abs and his bullshit threats about Harry.

Harry who made stupid jokes, and talked with Louis every night before bed, and made Louis' pulse race and skin flush, and cooked breakfast in the morning, and treated his mother and sister like they were the most wonderful women in the world, and acted like Louis' friendship was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Louis didn't know if he wanted to cry or punch Matt. He supposed he wanted to do both. Matt was the exact reason Louis needed to stay in the closet. Because if people like Matt knew then it didn't matter how popular Louis was, he'd be a target.

Louis knew Harry well enough now to know that Harry was beloved by most but that wasn't enough.

“Has he tried anything on you, mate?” Matt asked and his face was alight with humour but Louis knew that if he said yes there would be nothing funny in Matt's reaction.

“No,” Louis said quickly, words still not coming the way they normally would. “We're step-brothers,” he added as if that meant anything. It should have, but it didn't stop Louis from staring and wishing and obsessing.

“You think he cares about that?” Matt huffed and he looked like he was about to continue but Louis cut him off.

“Listen, I've gotta run, Matt. Harry's my ride and he's probably wondering where I am.”

Louis didn't wait for a response; he grabbed his bag, threw his towel over his shoulder, and booked it out of there as quickly as he could.

It wasn't until he got outside that he realized he was shaking – wasn't until he was approaching Harry's car that he realized he was about to throw up.

Louis paused with one hand on the handle of the car door. He swallowed around the feeling of nausea bubbling in his stomach. He ignored the confused look Harry was giving him through the window. He didn't even look up when the window rolled down.

“Hey,” Harry said slowly, “Are you all right?”

And that was it. Louis shook his head and was doubled over throwing up all over the curb before he even knew what was happening. His lunch painted the cement and spattered up the side of Harry's car and Louis hated the sound of himself retching – loathed it.

“Whoa,” Harry exclaimed and Louis heard a door slam and footsteps and then Harry's hand was on the back of his neck, cold as ice. “Lou,” he said softly, concerned as Louis finally straightened, hand still on his neck, cool and soothing.

Louis flinched and pushed him away even though all he wanted was to collapse into Harry's arms and wait for his heart to slow and his breathing to calm and his panic to recede.

“We should go,” Louis murmured as he wiped his sleeve across his mouth. He didn't dare meet Harry's gaze and instead kept his eyes fixated on the ground, on the mess he'd left all over the curb.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, the hand Louis had shoved aside still hovering awkwardly in the air. “Yeah,” he finally said, “We can do that.”

It wasn't until they were both in the car and en route that Harry broke the silence.

“What was that about?” he asked, eyes firmly on the road.

“Nothing,” Louis lied and even to his own ears the words sounded tight and false. Harry didn't reply to the lie and they fell into silence again. Louis couldn't help but wonder if Harry had had a run in with Matt. Or if he had run ins with anyone really. The idea of someone having a problem with Harry didn't sit well with Louis.

“Do you get a lot of crap for being gay?” Louis asked suddenly, not missing the way Harry jerked at the question, eyes flashing to Louis for a brief moment before returning to the road. His expression became confused and defensive and Louis knew Harry's sexuality was a sensitive subject for them, but he had to know.

“Why are you asking?” Harry countered suspiciously, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.

“I just--” Louis stopped mid-sentence. Did he tell Harry about what Matt had said? Or did he just brush it off as simple curiosity?

“You just?” Harry prompted, voice still tight.

Louis sighed, “One of my teammates confronted me about it.” He didn't elaborate, figured he didn't need to but Harry apparently thought otherwise.

“Like how?” he asked and Louis felt like he was being interrogated.

“I don't know,” Louis replied evasively, snapping his mouth shut. His stomach still churned and his hands still shook and he wasn't sure what had possessed him to start this conversation with Harry when he was still so worked up.

“Yes you do,” Harry said simply.

“Why do you need to know?” Louis snapped back. He wasn't sure why the other boy was so intent on hearing what Matt had said, it clearly wasn't anything good.

Harry sighed. “Because it obviously has you worked up,” he answered honestly and Louis still didn't see why that meant he should tell Harry, but he didn't say that.

“Yeah well,” Louis started but stopped. “Would you be calm if someone was threatening your friends?” he asked instead with a frustrated exhale.

They pulled into the driveway and Harry shrugged, expression nonchalant. “Louis, people like to run their mouths about me being gay. I'm all right with that. Let them. If they want to be ignorant I can't stop them,” he explained as he put the car in park, finally turning to face Louis. His eyes were soft and brimming with understanding and maybe Louis had been holding his breath because he just seemed to absolutely deflate under the comforting gaze.

“I'm not all right with that,” Louis told Harry firmly, “What if they talk themselves into action?” Perhaps his tone wasn't as firm as he thought. It felt weak on the words, faint on his tongue as he pictured Matt going after Harry.

“Then they go after me,” Harry said, “I'm really not worried though, Lou,” he continued, attempting to comfort Louis, “I've got a lot of good friends that everyone knows will have my back if anyone tries anything.”

Louis wasn't convinced but he was also pretty certain their conversation had reached a dead end. He looked at Harry long and hard, at the kindness in his eyes and the soft reassuring tilt of his lips, and he couldn't do anything but shake his head and grip the door handle.

“Whatever you say, Harry,” he replied in a tired breath and exited the car, not bothering to wait for more of Harry's assurances.

He was still caked in sweat and mud and his mouth tasted like bile.

\- - -

Because they were very responsible young men, the five boys decided to have a few beers while at Zayn's later that evening. They had also all decided before they started drinking that they were not going to leave the house this time, as Louis was still slightly spooked from the last time they'd gone on a late night romp (he still heard people talking about BB Jesus around town).

They – responsibly – spent evening all sprawled across the couches in Zayn's basement with the lights dimmed and watching Step Brothers and Louis ignored the potential irony. Harry had ended up tight to Louis' body under a blanket, hooking their arms together in an oddly intimate way that no one seemed to notice.

Though, when Louis thought about it, Zayn and Liam were looking pretty cozy as well all curled around each other under a blanket of their own. Their eyes were fixed on the movie with an inhuman intensity and Louis wasn't imagining the way Zayn's thumb was stroking Liam's forearm. Niall was simply enamoured with Will Ferrell and wouldn't have reacted if someone threw up a smoke signal.

Maybe that was why Louis didn't pull away when Harry's hand carefully shifted onto his thigh. He looked sharply at the other boy but Harry kept his head forward and his face apathetic as if he had no idea that he was practically groping Louis. Like Zayn and Liam, his eyes had that same quality of being far too focused. Louis inhaled deeply through his nose and turned back to the television. Harry's fingers were flexing against his inner thigh and god it took every ounce of restraint Louis had to stay still and not shift. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and took another breath through his nose as he felt a deep burning beginning low in his belly. His attention was pinpointed on Harry's hand, which was inching higher and higher.

This was so fucking inappropriate.

He had told Harry that he was straight.

That being said, he was half hard and doing a shit job of maintaining his straight image.

“Harry,” he mouthed against the air, words not even a whisper, and the hand on his leg stilled. Harry tilted his head to look at Louis and fuck Louis was done. Harry's pupils were completely blown out, his lips parted, and he was breathing in quick little sexually frustrated huffs that went straight to Louis' groin. He didn't offer a comforting smile or a nod of his chin or a softly spoken word. No, that would have made Louis' life too easy. Instead, Harry tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and cocked his head to the side with the tiniest lift of his eyebrows. His fingers curled against the denim covered flesh of Louis' thigh and Louis felt his cock twitch as he imagined what would happen if he let Harry do what he was asking.

He wanted to. God he wanted to so badly that he had to hold back a moan at the mere thought. But he couldn't.

Louis pushed the blanket off of them and practically jumped off the couch. He'd only had two beer and he wasn't drunk enough to let his step-brother give him a hand job over his jeans in his best friend's basement while they watched Step Brothers.

“Bathroom,” he muttered – explained – in a hoarse voice and quickly hurried away. He practically dove into the tiny bathroom and was just about to shut the door when he was met with resistance. Louis looked down and saw that he had closed the door against someone's foot.

A curly haired head peaked through the space, cheeks flushed and eyes almost black.

Fuck. Had Harry thought Louis had been inviting him to the bathroom?

Harry didn't say a word, just pushed against the door until it was open enough for him to sneak through the space, then he took the initiative to close the door himself, twisting the handle with a push to lock it.

“Louis,” he said quietly, voice thick and low in pitch, and his words went straight to Louis' groin.

Louis wondered if Harry could hear the way his heart was practically racing out of his chest – wondered if Harry could see the way Louis couldn't take his eyes off Harry's porn star li-- He needed to not think that because thoughts like that would progress to fantasies about Harry dropping to his knees and-- shit.

Louis was almost fully hard and straining against his pants and it was practically painful. His eyes were still on Harry's lips.

Harry's hand softly gripped Louis' hip, taking him by surprise as daring fingers curled into his belt loop. When Louis didn't push Harry away, he placed his other hand on the side of Louis' neck, coaxing Louis' gaze up to meet his. And god. Harry's eyes practically jolted Louis with how charged and dark they were – darker than he'd ever seen.

“Louis,” Harry repeated sounding completely torn with lust, “I wanna try something, all right?” His tone was soft and rough and it sent a shiver down Louis' spine.

Louis couldn't speak so he just nodded his head and told himself that he didn't know Harry wanted to kiss him because it helped his denial. He told himself he had no idea what was coming when Harry's gaze dropped to his lips and the taller boy began to lean forward.

Harry's lips were soft and warm when they met Louis', tentative as they moved gently over Louis'. The hand on Louis' hip tugged and Louis shuddered as his body melded against Harry's. A tongue snaked over the crease between his lips and Louis opened them almost desperately as he lifted his hands to cling to Harry's shoulders.

God this was so much better than he could have ever imagined. Harry's chest was hard and sweltering hot against Louis' body and his tongue was careful as it slowly eased into Louis' mouth, sweeping over his lips, and then Harry had Louis' bottom lip in his teeth and he was tugging and Louis' hips bucked against Harry's. He didn't have the time to be embarrassed, he just held on tighter to Harry's shoulders, and pressed back into Harry to continue the kiss.

This was only the third time he'd ever kissed a boy – the first time he'd kissed one he was actually attracted to – and the whole situation was leaving Louis dizzy and burning and disoriented beyond all measure.

And god was he hard.

He took Harry's lip between his teeth, testing the waters, and felt it when Harry's breathing hitched. The feeling of power that gave him surged through Louis to his very core and he had to do it again. He stopped pulling on Harry's shoulders and began pushing until he had Harry pinned to the wall. His hands slid up Harry's neck until they were firmly rooted in his hair; it was soft and tangled around his fingers, licking at his burning skin. He pulled back from the kiss just barely – his nose was still nestled against Harry's skin, their breath mingling between them – and tugged Harry's hair hard.

Harry fucking keened forward and whimpered into Louis' lips and Louis was so gay. God was he ever gay.

And sexually frustrated. It was some next level shit how turned on he was in that moment.

“Fuck,” Louis muttered in a broken breath against Harry's mouth. He could feel Harry's hand flexing against his hip and he just wanted to rut against Harry's thigh like he was in fucking heat.

And maybe he was.

“Harry,” he groaned quietly and buried his face in Harry's neck.

“I wanna do the nastiest shit to you, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry whispered against Louis' ear and Louis hadn't known until that moment that he was into boys that talked filthy but holy shit he was.

Louis swallowed and let out a frustrated breath as he buried his face deeper into Harry.

“I have since the first moment I saw you,” Harry continued and he sounded just completely destroyed and his hand was holding so tightly to Louis' hip that Louis thought Harry might leave behind his fingerprints.

Truthfully, Louis wouldn't mind if that happened.

“Do you know how hard it is having your bedroom just across the hall from mine?” The hand that Harry had on the back of Louis' neck gently tugged and Louis acquiesced with the unspoken request, lifting his head to look at Harry.

Harry. Harry. Harry.

Harry, whose curls were a right disaster, and whose lips were puffy and red and glossy with saliva and were saying words that kept shooting straight to Louis' groin.

“I can imagine,” Louis said hoarsely and smirked at Harry, who let out a ragged laugh.

“I swear,” he breathed, laugh settling into a crooked smile, “I have never masturbated so much in my life.”

And god Louis did not need that mental image seared into his mind.

“You have a filthy mouth,” Louis told him, leaning in to give Harry a soft peck like it was the most natural thing in the world, which was not okay.

“It only gets dirtier,” Harry confided, dark eyes twinkling, and Louis didn't even care that it felt like losing when he groaned because the way Harry's face surged with confidence and happiness was completely worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not totally sure about my thoughts on this chapter but it's been a few days so I figured I might as well just put it out there! Sorry for the pseudo cliffhanger! We will continue the last scene next chapter and find out how the boys deal.
> 
> Also I have a funny (I think) story! While I was writing the scene where Louis confronts Harry about getting picked on for being gay, Let's Get It On by Marvin Gaye started playing (I'm in a motown phase), which was a bit (in)appropriate. I decided rather quickly to hit next and on came I'm Coming Out by Diana Ross. I almost died and just gave up on music for the rest of the chapter because clearly my itunes had it's own ideas for the direction of that scene.
> 
> I'd like to once again thank everyone for all your interactions, whether that be bookmarking, subscribing, giving kudos, etc! Means a ton and keeps me writing fast! To the people that have taken the time to leave reviews: thank you a million times over! Your positive feedback makes me feel all bubbly and warm like a good glass of champagne, so merci beaucoup for that!
> 
> Have a lovely weekend and thank you for reading xo


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for this chapter:
> 
> Bambi - Tokyo Police Club  
> Frankenstein - Tokyo Police Club  
> She Looks So Perfect - 5 Seconds of Summer  
> Ready To Go - Republica  
> Juicebox - The Strokes  
> Teddy Picker - The Arctic Monkeys

Chapter 6

It had been a full twenty four hours since the kiss and Louis was making it weird. He knew he was. When Harry and he had finally emerged from the bathroom, the full weight of what had happened came crashing down on him like a bag of bricks. He had made out with his step-brother. He had made out with a boy. He had swollen lips and messy hair and a stone of guilt settled in the pit of his stomach. And if their friends saw them they would knew exactly what had happened.

So Louis had insisted that they head to the pantry and find an excuse for their absence. He also made a point of asserting that what they had done was obscenely inappropriate. Harry had been all rolling eyes and aggravated sighs as Louis practically threw himself into the deep freeze in search of an excuse.

“Are you always this weird after a snog?” Harry had asked, annoyance sharp on the tip of his tongue.

“Freezies!” Louis had announced, emerging from the deep freeze with an enormous box and chattering teeth. He didn't bother replying to the question because, quite frankly, he didn't have a good answer.

He had forced Harry to power eat not one but four freezies before they were finally allowed to make their way back to the group, lips now swollen from the freezies and tinged a purpley blue.

It had been the perfect cover. It had worked flawlessly.

Harry had seemed put out but that wasn't really Louis' problem.

It had been a full twenty four hours since then and Harry was still put out and Louis was still making it weird.

“Harry, Louis!” Anne called from the bottom of the stairs, interrupting the intense staring contest Louis was having with his barely started English paper, “We're heading out now.”

Louis pushed back from his desk and to his feet, nervous energy strumming through his veins and powering his almost frenetic movements. He swallowed, trying to control the light but frantic pounding in his chest because tonight Anne and Mark had come home and announced that they were all going to dinner together.

There had been no logical reason for Harry and Louis to decline.

So they had both nodded their heads agreeably and headed to their rooms, Harry giving Louis a seriously puppy dog inspired look, which Louis had made a point of ignoring. That had been nearly two hours ago.

When Louis opened his door, he wasn't surprised to see Harry emerging from his own room across the hall. They made eye contact for half a second, during which time Harry opened his mouth as if to speak but Louis was quick to stop the conversation as he hurriedly turned away and headed down the stairs.

“Where we going then, Anne?” Louis asked jovially enough, trying to ignore the way Harry always took the stairs at a near gallop. He headed for the closet and pulled his Bolshevik jacked off its hanger, shrugging into it as he looked at Anne expectantly.

“Nothing fancy,” she said as she adjusted the collar of her own coat, grinning brightly at Louis, “Just Olive Garden.”

“Carbs,” Louis replied with an approving nod, “Love it. Mark already out then?” His hand was on the doorknob and he was not paying attention to the way Harry was tensing his jaw as he pulled his own coat on – wasn't giving any thought to the way it made his stomach tighten with something like guilt.

“He is, dear,” Anne replied and plucked her purse from where it was hanging off the banner and they were all ready to depart.

The restaurant itself was fairly quiet, which wasn't all that surprising seeing as it was a Tuesday evening. The car ride over had been uneventful. Mark and Anne had quietly conversed while Louis and Harry had buried themselves in their phones and devotedly ignored each other.

The quartet were seated in a large booth towards the back of the restaurant by a brunet with a Colgate smile, a suspiciously limp wrist, and eyes only for Harry. Louis didn't like him.

“I'm Colton,” the boy said as he filled their cups with water one by one, “And I'm going to be your server tonight. Can I start you guys off with anything to drink?” His eyebrows lifted expectantly and when he reached for Anne's glass his hand very purposefully brushed over Harry's hands, which were crossed on the table.

Louis' eyes narrowed.

“Tonic with a splash of cranberry,” Louis replied quickly, lifting his chin and smiling tightly at Colton. What a stupid name.

Colton nodded to Louis, not even offering a form of verbal acknowledgement as he replaced Anne's glass, his hand once again brushing over Harry's.

“Anyone else?” His eyes landed on Harry and his perfect smile with perfect teeth widened and his stupidly blue eyes crinkled. Louis wanted to punch him. He also couldn't believe the way Harry smiled back, shy and dimply, as if he was actually buying this load of shit.

“Just a coke,” Harry answered in his slow smooth tone.

Anne and Mark were quick to order glasses of wine and then Colton was finally off.

Thank god.

“Well, he was cute,” Anne remarked, smirking at Harry as she nudged his shoulder with a quirk of her eyebrows. Harry blushed, dropping his head forward and raising both hands to rearrange his hair – one of his many nervous tics.

“Mom,” Harry groaned and maybe Louis was seeing things where they didn't exist but it almost seemed like Harry was refusing to make eye contact with him, instead keeping his gaze fixated on the table, bashful.

“He seemed nice,” Anne pressed, tone still light and teasing, “I'm sorry that your dear mother wouldn't mind seeing you with a nice boy,” she continued and Louis couldn't help but dart a quick glance at Mark, gauging his reaction.

Apparently it didn't phase him in the least because he simply laughed, taking Anne's hand from across the table and wrapping it with his own.

“Yeah Harry,” Louis mocked, tone light and teasing for the parents, his mouth moving before he had a chance to even think about it, “A boyfriend might do you a bit of good.” Was it weird that it felt like he was taking a knife and twisting it in his own gut? Because as the words left his lips, Louis felt sick with himself, felt sick with the whole situation.

Still, he smiled devilishly, ever the prankster, and shared a “giddy” look with Anne in a Hallmark worthy moment.

Their drinks arrived before Harry could reply so all Louis had in response to his prodding was a confused look from Harry – wide eyed and slack jawed.

Colton was quick to distribute the drinks and ask if they were ready to order, which they weren't.

“We're gonna need a few minutes, but thanks for your speediness, mate,” Louis snipped with a fake smile, “No one enjoys a tardy person, do they Harry?”

He ignored the way Harry looked sharply at him because that was Harry's thing. One night when they had been stretched out on Louis' bed, listening to music and idly talking as the thoughts came, they had discussed their pet peeves. Harry's was tardiness.

Louis was pretty sure he was on his way to becoming another of Harry's very few pet peeves.

“No,” Harry finally said, his words slow and deliberate as he basically stared right into Louis' soul, “Punctuality is a highly underappreciated quality.” As he finished speaking, his expression flickered, something like disappointment flashing behind his eyes, before he smoothed it over with a winning smile and turned to Colton, who became an embarrassing puddle at the sight of Harry's dimples.

“Oh, I completely agree,” Colton drawled, “I'll leave you lot to decide on your meals and will be back in a bit.” And then he was off to the kitchens and Louis severely wanted to mock him for being so professional but figured this was the wrong crowd for such antics.

The conversation didn't return to Colton after that. Anne and Mark discussed work while they perused the menus and Harry and Louis once again returned to ignoring each other. Well, Harry ignored Louis. Louis couldn't help but sneak glances at Harry, who was staring off into the restaurant absently.

He perked up when Colton came to take their orders and when he left, Harry went back to idly watching the bustle of the restaurant again. When their meals were brought to the table by some blonde girl that was not Colton, Harry's face dropped into an expression bordering on morose.

Louis wanted to slap him. He'd been making out with Louis twenty-four hours before and now he was acting like a little bitch because some tacky brunet hadn't brought him his meal. Louis didn't want to admit it but he was surging with hurt because while he had been awkward with Harry all day, he was still offended that Harry could just go and put all his eggs in someone else's basket without a second thought. It made Louis think that maybe Harry wasn't who he thought he was – made him think that maybe it was a good thing he was still playing the straight card because between Nick and Colton Louis was starting to see a pattern, was starting to see that Harry had no problem leaving Louis high and dry the second a new prettier gay boy came traipsing along.

It stung.

But more than that it filled Louis with jealousy.

When, partway through dinner, Harry suddenly got up from the table and excused himself to the bathroom, Louis couldn't help but feel suspicious. His suspicion turned to white hot fury when he saw Colton slip down the hall for the bathroom hot on Harry's heals.

Louis felt like he was in a movie.

He couldn't take his gaze off the hall Harry and Colton had disappeared down, even as Anne and Mark kindly attempted to bring him into their conversation.

“The chicken's excellent,” Anne commented and her voice sounded far-off, “How's the penne, Louis?”

“Good.” The words were there, the curt nod was there, but Louis wasn't. He was fixated on the fact that Harry was probably on his knees in a bathroom for some guy he didn't even know while Louis sat at a table with his fucking mother and step-father.

And that was why this was all so ridiculous. Louis just imagined Colton asking about the snippy guy at the table and Harry telling him breathlessly between kisses, “Oh, it's just my step-brother,” and he felt weak with how gutted that realization left him.

Colton was first to emerge from the hall, straightening his apron with one hand and smoothing out his hair with the other and Louis was not about to lose it. Louis was all right.

When Harry came out and caught Colton's eye to share a quick smile, Louis was still all right. Then Harry looked at him and physically froze, body tensing up, a fucking stone wall falling over his face and shutting it down. There was no apology in his eyes, no concern, not even defiance. Just stone cold nothing.

Fine, Louis thought when Harry finally regained control of his feet and continued to the table, if Harry wanted there to be nothing then Louis was more than happy to give it to him.

\- - -

Louis didn't even bother apologizing when he aggressively bumped into Harry as he passed him on the way up the stairs to his room. He was careful not to slam his door because Mark and Anne were already suspicious that something was up. The number of “Are you okay?”s that Harry and Louis had received during the remainder of their “happy” family dinner was nauseating.

He was just turning away from his door to tackle his English essay when his door flew open and Harry stomped through, ever the lumbering giant. He apparently didn't care for Mark and Anne's sanity as he slammed the door behind him.

“What is your problem?” he demanded of Louis and his eyes were wild and the sneer on his face was like nothing Louis had ever seen before.

“You being in my room right now,” Louis drawled as he sunk into his desk chair, always quick on his feet when it came to being evasive.

“And that was your problem at dinner too then?” Harry countered, eyebrows raised incredulously, “And when you bumped me into the wall just now?”

Louis shrugged, spinning idly in his chair and acting as if he wasn't wound up tight like a coil ready to spring. “I have fantastic foresight, Styles.”

“Oh stuff it, Louis,” Harry huffed and he crossed the room until he was standing over Louis, staring down at him with a menacing expression. “You don't have a right to be pissed about Colton,” he said, coming right to the point and putting Louis off his games.

Louis clenched his jaw and powered on his monitor, turning away from Harry and lining his fingers up on his keyboard. He didn't know what to say so he chose to say nothing, even if the anger bubbling in his throat wanted him to hiss and spit and scratch out nasty little phrases.

“I don't even know what's up with you,” Harry continued when it became obvious that Louis wasn't going to speak, “You act like you're jealous or mad at me for what? Being a sixteen year old boy?”

“Being a whore,” Louis corrected under his breath, not breaking his gaze from the monitor and furiously typing incoherent phrases about a book he had never even read.

That seemed to do it for Harry because he yanked Louis' chair away from the desk and slammed both his hands down on the arms, getting right in Louis' face. His expression was so hurt and angry and frustrated.

“A what?” he asked quietly and Louis never wanted to see that particular look on Harry's face ever again.

But he didn't know how to back down.

“A whore,” Louis replied in a challenging tone and he was breathing considerably faster and his hands were definitely trembling. His whole body was trembling, vibrating even.

“You're unbelievable,” Harry breathed and his eyes searched Louis' and he looked so vulnerable under all that anger. “What does it even matter to you?” he asked, almost desperate.

And Louis thought that maybe he knew exactly what Harry wanted to hear but he couldn't say it.

“It doesn't, I guess,” Louis said instead, trying to sound offhand around the shake in his voice. But Harry seemed to catch the tremble in his tone, because his eyes softened and he tilted his head just the slightest bit and Louis realized he was shaking too.

“Are you mad it wasn't you I made out with tonight?” he asked tentatively as if he wasn't even sure he wanted to put the words out into the world for judgement.

Louis sucked in a breath. Yes. He wanted to say. Yes. He wasn't just mad he was furious.

“I'm straight,” he croaked out instead, even as he had to hold onto the impulse to lean forward and catch Harry's lips in his own as they crumbled down into a deep frown. Harry didn't pull back from the chair; his eyes darted over Louis' face, ruminating over every detail they found there.

“So last night...” Harry began, intentionally leaving the sentence open. He wanted Louis to finish it.

“Was a mistake. We're step-brothers,” Louis said, then reiterated, “and I'm straight.” And he hoped Harry didn't notice all the emphasis he put into the word, as if he was hoping if he said it strongly enough he would be able to convince himself of it.

“Colton gave me his number.” Harry was testing the waters with that bit of information. Louis could tell from the way Harry carefully watched Louis for any reaction. So Louis reigned in the scowl that was trying to curl his lips and tucked away the rock that was trying to take residence in his stomach and gave Harry a shaky smile and hoped it was enough.

“Hope you aren't too intimidated by a perfect smile then,” he said and the words were tight but he was smiling so they were a joke. Right?

Harry's lips curved up into something that resembled a smile and he pulled back from Louis, straightening to his full height and shaking his head.

“Yours hasn't crushed my self-esteem so...” he replied and the sort of smile became a bit of a real smile and Louis was still angry and trembling and his lips were still doing a horrible job at feigning happiness so he didn't do anything in response. He just turned back to his computer and let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

Harry lingered for a minute and Louis could see from the corner of his eye that Harry was expecting a response – wanted Louis to flirt back – but Louis couldn't give him that. Because Harry could barge into Louis' room and confront him all he wanted; it didn't change the fact that Harry always flirted with Louis and then went off and made out with other people.

It didn't change the fact that Louis' heart pinched with disappointment every time it happened.

It didn't change the fact that Louis wasn't ready to be gay.

When Harry finally left, Louis was too exhausted to write his essay.

\- - -

Louis would say that at this point he and Harry were coexisting. Their social circles had sort of melded at some point so they didn't really have an excuse to not hang out. Particularly because Zayn and Liam were suddenly best friends and insisted on always inviting the other along and with Zayn came Niall and Louis, and with Liam came Harry so...

That was absolutely not an excuse for why they were all pissed and in the process of hopping Amber Reilly's fence. Really, if Louis looked back over the events of the evening he couldn't quite say how the night got to this. They had all headed straight to Zayn's after school and put on the Lord of the Rings, deciding to take on a game that was so eloquently deemed “The Lord of the Rings Drinking Game”.

Liam had pulled up the rules on his phone and they had made it through the first two movies before they all decided it was a beautiful night out and they were all far too shitfaced to waste the night within the confines of Zayn's basement.

The reason for hopping Amber Reilly's fence was quite simple. She was the only person in the neighbourhood with a pool and Louis really wanted someone to go swimming. And really, whether the boys were willing to admit it or not, Louis was the unofficial leader of their little group. He had the best – or worst – ideas, the most interesting stories, and loved the sound of his own voice the most of any of them. So what he said usually went.

“Liam, you should go in,” Louis suggested wickedly, nudging Liam towards the water slide.

“But my clothes...” Liam protested weakly and was cut off with a round of boos from his comrades.

“Liam,” Louis interjected, “I swear to god you are the dullest person to ever exist. I'm just trying to make you more interesting.” Maybe it was a bit mean but Louis found it far too enjoyable taking the piss out of poor Liam. Probably because he was just too nice to say anything back. And that was part of it too. Louis just really wanted to push Liam until he finally snapped.

“Sod off, Lou,” Zayn said, though it was obvious he was amused. If Louis was being completely candid he was also quite certain that Zayn wanted to see Liam strip down to his skivvies. As much as it killed Louis to admit it, Liam did have the best body of the bunch.

“It's fine, Zayn,” Liam assured him, placing a comforting hand on Zayn's chest and looking to Louis with a resigned expression. “I'll go in. But you fuckers had better be quiet.”

“Absolutely,” Louis chirped, holding up his left hand and placing his right over his heart. “Scout's Honour!”

“Liam! Who do you think we are?” Niall added, a bit offended that Liam didn't trust them. Harry nodded his head emphatically, looking utterly – adorably – put out at the implication that he was not a reliable best friend.

Louis wasn't nearly as offended.

He was about as trustworthy as a bag of flaming shit on a doorstep when it came to these sorts of things. But there was no reason to say that now.

“Louis,” Zayn warned and Louis rolled his eyes. He clearly was going to have to get Zayn in there if he wanted to have any fun tonight.

“Well why don't you go too then?” Louis suggested – dared. “You too can have a romp in the pool while the three of us watch from the trampoline.”

“Why don't you go in?” Harry slurred, squaring Louis with his dopey grin and half-lidded eyes. God drunk Harry was... not cute in any way shape or form because Louis was straight and Harry was a whore.

Right.

“I'm not going in because I'm wearing tightey whiteys, Styles,” Louis informed him condescendingly, “And I'd rather you didn't know exactly what my cock looks like.”

That shut Harry up.

He didn't reply. Just shut his mouth and flushed a deep red as the other three boys burst into fits of giggles.

“Are we doing this then?” Zayn finally said when everyone was over razzing Harry.

“You probably should. Dawn'll be here before you get your acts together, fellas,” Niall quipped with a wolfish grin as the two boys began stripping down.

Louis watched impatiently while Niall and Harry catcalled the pair. It really didn't bother Louis that Niall had his arm slung comfortably over Harry's shoulder. It didn't bother him one ounce.

Finally, Zayn and Liam were in nothing but their boxers and were ready to go.

“I'm not jumping in there until my clothes are in Harry's arms,” Zayn informed Louis, placing his hands on his hips and staring Louis down, just daring him to object.

Louis glanced at Harry, who seemed to be just tickled pink that Zayn wanted to entrust his clothes into his care.

“Me too,” Liam agreed, nodding his head a few too many times until he looked like a bloody bobble head. From the corner of his eye, Louis could see Niall drunkenly heading for the trampoline, apparently bored with everyone's antics.

“Fine by me,” Louis said, “Not sure what you expect me to do with them though.” He was being so offhand and casual, a little offended, and Zayn didn't believe Louis' words for a second.

“Fuck me, you know exactly what you wanna do with 'em,” Zayn informed Louis.

God bless best mates.

“Don't you have a midnight swim to be getting to?” Louis asked, raising an eyebrow and fighting back his smile as Harry began gathering their clothes.

Zayn and Liam whipped down the water slide one after the other, breaking through the water with a splash that seemed deafening in the silence that cloaked Amherst in the middle of the night. Louis tensed, watching the windows of the house, waiting for a light to flick on and ruin all their fun.

Nothing happened.

He let out a relieved breath and glanced to his side where Harry stood, just absolutely appreciating every second. He was grinning wider than Louis had ever seen and maybe it was stupid and sentimental but it felt like Harry's joy was an egg being cracked over Louis' head. It was a mostly stupid sentiment. But Harry's joy tingled down his scalp and made him shiver and at the same time it felt just a little bit off to be indulging in it this happily.

When Zayn and Liam were thoroughly distracted by a competition to see who could hold their breath the longest and Niall was busy perfecting his front flip on the trampoline, Louis seized Harry by the crook of his elbow and dragged him to the side of the house.

Harry opened his mouth to protest but Louis silenced him quickly by placing a finger over his lips.

“Don't speak. Just follow my lead and live a little, Styles,” Louis instructed. He waited, watching as Harry seemed to contemplate whether or not he was going to agree to being Louis' accomplice.

Louis smiled charmingly, cocking his head to the side a bit. He doubted Harry would think Louis was as innocent as he was trying to seem but maybe it would help.

Harry nodded after a moment, a shocked grin blooming over his face as if he couldn't believe he was going along with one of Louis Tomlinson's infamous wild ideas. Louis ignored the shivers and the temptation to just push Harry against the wall and show him a bit more of the infamous Louis Tomlinson and instead grabbed the taller boy and sprinted to the front of the house, up the walk and to the front porch.

“Clothes,” Louis ordered in a hushed whisper as he grabbed a handful of the clothes and began stuffing them into the mailbox.

Harry's eyes widened and his jaw dropped but he didn't protest. He didn't help either, opting instead to simply hold out the armful clothing and let Louis do the “dirty work”.

It was when the mailbox was stuffed as full as Louis could get it that shit got real. He wasn't sure if Harry would ever look at him the same after this.

“Ready?” Louis asked quietly, giddily, and Harry nodded like a child, full of excitement and adrenaline.

Louis rang the doorbell five times, never taking his eyes off Harry's face – not daring to miss the way Harry's eyes widened in disbelief and then narrowed and then widened again as he realized they needed to get out of there.

“Go!” Louis hissed when they heard footsteps in the house and he was happy all the clothes didn't fit in the mailbox because when they bolted into the backyard no one thought to question them.

“They're up!” Louis yelled, giving his friends half a chance to get a way before barrelling off and over the fence, Harry hot on his heels. He paused when he was on the other side to watch Niall as he clumsily tripped off the trampoline and threw himself over the fence and then a terrifyingly large man was coming around the side of the house and Louis swore his eyes were devil red. He was like the Hulk and Vin Diesel's love child. Liam and Zayn were both at the fence by the time the man made it to the backyard. He was a sight to see when he was sprinting. Just this huge, burly man running like an Olympic sprinter, whipping his massive arms forward and back in an attempt to get more speed, legs practically hitting a perfect 180 degrees with each stride. It would have been comical if Louis wasn't shitting his pants in fear.

“We've pissed off fucking GI Joe!” Niall squealed and Louis swore he could see pee on Niall's pants.

“Don't go back to the house,” Louis hissed to the boys when Liam and Zayn were finally over the fence and they were all sprinting into the open field behind the house. “Split up. We'll meet at Boris' got it?”

“I called the cops! Get back here and wait nice and I won't fucking kill you for trespassing,” GI Joe hollered, reaching the fence.

The boys split up – Harry and Liam going one way and Louis, Niall, and Zayn going another, which may have been stupid because Louis wasn't sure the two younger boys knew the way to Boris' all that well.

Louis glanced over his shoulder and saw that GI Joe had decided to take after Louis, Niall, and Zayn.

During his lifetime Louis had heard of something called the “pucker factor”. It wasn't until this moment that he truly understood what it had been referring to.

Because holy fuck Louis was puckered.

The field was big but the neighbourhood was small and when GI Joe turned around and headed back to his house at the same intense run, Louis knew they weren't out of the clear.

“He's going back for his car,” Louis told Zayn and Niall urgently, slowing down until he was stopped. The two boys stopped on either side of him, watching as Joe hopped his fence and headed for the garage.

“Text... Harry to warn him and Liam,” Louis said and felt himself go white as a sheet as he realized he hadn't checked for phones when he'd thrown Zayn and Liam's things into the mailbox. “Fuck.”

“What?” Niall asked absently as he pulled out his phone and began tapping his fingers over the screen, sending out a warning to Harry. Zayn's eyes narrowed. Louis wished it could be funny that Zayn was wearing nothing but his gitch as they ran from a crazy man at three in the morning on a Friday but it wasn't funny.

It was not funny at all.

“Nothing,” Louis said around a mouthful of guilt, eyes darting about, looking anywhere but at Zayn because Zayn knew. Zayn knew Louis better than anyone and Zayne knew.

“Standing in the middle of a field isn't so smart,” Zayn said carefully, furiously.

He knew. He only wasn't asking because he was good at prioritizing.

“All right, let's hit that patch of trees over there,” Niall suggested, completely clueless as he tucked his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. It seemed they were all sobered up at this point.

After they made it to the trees the boys slowly made their way to Boris', ducking behind cars whenever they saw headlights down the road and being very 007 for the most part. Even Zayn began to enjoy himself and he was playing real life James Bond while in his underwear.

When they finally made it to Boris' they found Harry and Liam huddled along the side of the building, far enough from the glow of the street lamp that they weren't visible from the street. Liam had Harry's hoodie on and no pants and Louis was an asshole but it was hilarious and he couldn't help it when he broke into a fit of laughter.

Because the sweater was oversized and too long and wet around the crotch and butt from Liam's soaked underwear and Liam's knobby hairy knees were knocking against each other and he was wearing his trainers but didn't have socks.

Louis wondered if he could ask Harry to mentally snapshot this moment for his memory collection. Because Louis never wanted to forget this moment.

It wasn't until Zayn cocked his head to the side and said in a low tone, “Harry, why doesn't Liam have his clothes on yet?” that Louis remembered he was elbow deep in shit.

Harry looked at Louis without even waiting a beat. Everyone else looked at Louis as well and he felt a bit put on the spot if he was being totally honest.

“Why are you all looking at me?” he demanded, tone rich with offence, “I wasn't put in charge of anyone's clothes.”

And maybe Louis was throwing Harry completely under the bus but it wasn't like they were really friends anymore anyway. They just happened to hang out all the time and be in the same group and live in the same house.

“He put them in the mailbox and rang the doorbell,” Harry said in a rush and Louis glared at him.

“You're supposed to have morals,” Louis hissed and Harry at least had the decency to blush, which didn't really count for much because while Niall thought that was the funniest thing he had ever heard in his life, Zayn was the complete opposite of amused. He was, in fact, unamused.

“You're a fucking cunt,” Zayn said, poking Louis in the chest and getting right up in his face. “You know that, mate?”

His tongue was tucked under his bottom lip, a habit Zayn reserved for moments when he was really truly angry. He looked as if he wanted to say something else but instead he let out a huff of breath and spun away from Louis, shaking his hands at his sides.

“Good,” Niall joked, “Just walk it off.”

Harry followed Zayn, holding out the clothes he still had in his arms, which were all Zayn's.

Liam shifted awkwardly and offered Louis a tentative smile that made Louis sort of want to hit him. Why was this kid still looking for Louis' approval when Louis had clearly just pulled a dirty ass prank on him.

“You know,” Niall said, distracting Louis from his thoughts, “I'm kind of pissed at you too.”

“Yeah?” Louis asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the brick. He watched idly as Zayn tugged on his pants, the butt soaking through with the dampness of his underwear almost instantly.

“Yeah. Because you took Harry to pull that one off, not me,” Niall informed him, pretending to be snippy.

Louis wanted to point out that Niall's wording was loaded with double meaning but held his tongue.

“He wasn't going to just hand me the clothes. He sets the table without his mom asking for fuck's sake. He's a straight shooter if I've ever seen one. Only person more boring that him is Payno here,” Louis said, clapping a hand on Liam's shoulder. The younger boy blushed and ducked his head not refuting the statement. Probably because it was true.

They were also both probably the most genuinely nicest people Louis knew but he couldn't go around complimenting them. Especially not Liam. He was still trying to see if he could get Liam to hit him.

“You could've asked me along,” Niall pouted, completely ignoring the statement about Liam. Zayn was fully dressed at that point and both he and Harry were rejoining the trio against the wall.

“You were part of our cover, mate,” Louis explained with a sympathetic shrug. “Next time though,” he assured Niall.

Zayn rolled his eyes. Turned out all his clothes had made it back. Which meant the mailbox only had Liam's clothes in it.

And Louis knew it looked like he had planned that but he really hadn't.

“Niall, do not get in on it with Louis when there's a next time,” Zayn said, exasperated and pulling a pack of cigarettes and his zippo from his back pocket.

“You know I will,” Niall countered with a mischievous quirk of his eyebrows and a little shake of his head.

“We should head back,” Liam suggested quietly.

“Yeah,” Louis agreed, “GI Joe hasn't driven past once so we should be good.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “GI Joe?”

“Mr. Reilly,” Zayn informed him as he finished lighting up and tucked his zippo back into his pocket.

“We were calling him Hulk Hogan,” Harry said, sharing a quick smile with Liam, and Louis didn't want to analyze why something as stupid as Harry and his best friend sharing a moment made him pulse with jealousy.

Zayn barked out a laugh at that and then he was sharing a smile with Liam and Louis was ready for bed. Everyone apparently had smiles to share with the most boring person in the world but only Niall could appreciate a good prank.

“Let's go,” Louis suggested, taking hold of Niall's sleeve and pulling him out and toward the street.

“What about my clothes?” Liam asked from behind Louis, who didn't bother checking to see if they were following.

“We'll dash by and get them on the way home. GI Hogan's probably gotten bored of looking for us.”

Louis couldn't help but feel proud when everyone, even Zayn who was Not Happy with Louis, laughed at that one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long and sorry if it's a bit shit! I figured I better get it up as I've taken my precious time on it! I just finished it and did a quick read through but I'll probably do another edit and repost tomorrow!
> 
> Sorry for things not going too well for the boys. To be completely honest things are going to get drastically worse before they sort themselves out. I get bored writing and reading fic where everyone's happy and together so let that be your warning.
> 
> Also I've been really wanting to write a Harry Potter AU where the boys are at Hogwarts but I need to finish this first and I was just so tempted to have them all get acceptance letters to Hogwarts randomly in this chapter. Luckily I decided that was not a good idea.
> 
> My last also is that most of the shenanigans the guys get up to in this fic are actually based on the shenanigans my friends get up to. One of my friends actually did the mailbox/doorbell combo while a group were sneaking into a backyard pool and on a separate occasion we were chased halfway around the city by the Hulk for jumping on someone's trampoline. Makes for good fiction though!
> 
> Finally thank you thank you thank you thank you for all your support for this story! I'm floored that I have the amount of kudos, subscriptions, and bookmarks that I do! It's lovely and I'd like to thank you all very much. As always, an extra special thank you goes out to those of you leaving reviews :) This chapter was hard for me to get going and reading your comments gave the push to just get it started so thank you immensely! 
> 
> I hope you all have a lovely Valentine's Day and that your fave kisses you in your dreams xo


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